


Whumptober 2018

by ALittleBitofThis



Category: DC Extended Universe, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Teen Titans (Animated Series), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Best Friends, Betrayal, Bloody Hands, Concussions, Electrocution, Exhaustion, Fluff, Frozen lakes, Guilt, Hallucinations, Heat Stroke, Hiding Medical Issues, Hostage Situations, Human Experimentation, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Identity Reveal, Injury, Insomnia, Iron Dad, Kidnapping, Major Character Injury, Manhandling, Mental Breakdown, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peter is Tony's Weakness, Platonic Cuddling, Poison, Poisoning, Psychological Torture, Restraints, Self-Sacrificing Tony Stark, Sickfic, Stabbing, Stranded, Tony Stark Cuddles, Torture, Whump, Whumptober, Whumptober 2018, broken ice, harsh climate, mentor!peter, trap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-07-24 11:48:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 39,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16174454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALittleBitofThis/pseuds/ALittleBitofThis
Summary: Blood, Pain, Gore, Angst, Whump. What's not to love? Since I seem consistently compelled to torture my favs, here's a collection of daily ficelts for Whumptober 2018, each around 500-1000 words. The collection is multifandom, but chapters will be titled accordingly, and





	1. Stabbed (Robin/Dick Grayson in YJ)

**Author's Note:**

> I know usually this blog is Marvel-based, but I have my roots in DC Comics, and Young Justice (the Justice League’s proteges on a team) just seemed to fit this prompt. If DC doesn’t do it for you, here’s a shameless plug to one of my favorite blurbs I did over the summer, which involves Peter Parker getting stabbed. (https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/adorkablesuperhero/176351562845)

Robin feels the knife go in, and despite the fact that it happens instantaneously, everything goes to slow motion as the blade presses into the flesh. His elbow flies back, breaking the thug’s nose in an explosion of blood, and the man recoils in pain.

Robin reaches back and pulls the knife out of his lower back, letting it noisily clatter to the ground. With that one touch, Dick already feels the blood through his gauntlet, and his lower back dampens as the wound gushes. Fuck. The rest of the team hasn’t noticed, caught up in their own fighting. Robin sees Artemis being pinned down by another henchman, her muscles straining to keep him from choking her.

He doesn’t even think. Just launches into a handspring and kicks the man off of her, but pain shoots through his spine, and he fudges the landing, smacking the ground with enough momentum that he rolls to a stop a few feet away.

“Robin, you okay?” Artemis calls out. Robin nods. They’re in Gotham fighting Two-Face, so he’s the team’s point person. Dick knows with every fiber of his being that he’d rather die than see them hurt, and Two-Face could be ruthless. Robin tugs on his cape a little, making sure the thick fabric will hide the wound. He knows full well that Aqualad will make him retreat if he’s injured.

“Yeah. Just lost my balance,” Robin manages. He pushes himself to his feet before anyone gets suspicious and gets back into the fight. Every fighting move radiates pain, but Robin doesn’t stop. Even as his head reels from blood loss, and enemies land hits on the disoriented Boy Wonder, he keeps going, refusing to let a dumb stab wound take him out.

A punch that normally would’ve missed him lands on his chest, and Dick tumbles backward into one of the cargo containers. The man follows him in and Robin feels another knife going into his abdomen. Dick struggles not to scream at the white-hot agony, but his squirming only digs the blade deeper into him with a sickening squelch. No, no, no! “Nngh!”

Robin clenches his eyes shut beneath the mask and pulls his leg up, kneeing him in the crotch. The man rolls off of him and Robin follows, scrambling for the knife. He butts him in the temple with the knife to knock him out and sticks the knife into the edge of his shirt to keep him on the ground. Dick sits back, trying to catch his breath while pressing his hands against the new wound.

He hears his heartbeat among a persistent whining noise. He’s losing too much blood. He wipes the sweat off his forehead, leaving a smear there. Shit. He uses the edge of his cape to swipe it off, covers it with strands of hair sticky with sweat, and prays the team won’t notice. Distantly, he hears Kid Flash warning Miss Martian to move. He needs to help. Time to go. Dick hauls himself up again, and everything swirls around him. He stumbles and sags against the wall of the container, waiting for it to stop.

‘I’ve had worse,’ Robin thinks as he moves towards the door. He sees Two-Face aiming a gun at Superboy and instinctively flings a batarang at the man. It misses by a solid foot or two, but distracts him enough to shift the aim to Robin. His reflexes are sluggish, and he knows he won’t be able to dodge it. Oops. He just stands there, ready to take whatever comes.

Kid Flash rushes at the villain, and he takes him out with a super-speed punch. The team pays their attention to the villain they’ve captured, not thinking to check on their teammate who rarely misses. Robin smiles slightly, and he’s content. He feels the mushiness of exposed muscle as he presses a glove against his stomach, but he doesn't care. His friends are safe. Moments after Two-Face hits the ground, Superboy hears another thump as Dick collapses, eyes rolling up.

“Robin!”


	2. Bloody Hands (Peter Parker)

It was an accident. It was an accident! Spider-Man pushes down on the bullet wound of the middle-aged women, and blood pools on her white blouse, but she doesn’t respond. He can’t hear anything over the guilt and the sirens surrounding him. He didn’t mean it. It was an accident! He just grabbed the pistol to disarm the thug... He didn’t know his fingers would accidentally fire the gun.

He’s apologizing in an endless stream. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He saves people.  _ Saves _ them, not kills them. Hands pull him back, telling him what he doesn’t want to hear. She’s dead.  _ Dead _ . The broken record of apologizing refuses to stop, even when they try to assure him it’s not his fault. It is. It is his fault.

Next thing Peter knows, he’s home, suit on the floor of the bathroom as he washes his hands. He lathers and then rinses them, but his hands aren’t any cleaner. They’re still a dark crimson color, so he soaps them again. It isn’t working. Peter scrubs at his palms furiously. Why won’t it come off?! He scratches at his skin and holds his hands under searing hot water, not caring that it’s burning and blistering them.

His fingers only get redder, and the pain amplifies, turning the whole bathroom red. Tears gush down his cheeks, adding to the liquids converging on his skin. Peter tastes the iron in his mouth but ignores it in favor of washing his hands again. Fingernails tear skin, and the corners of his mouth perk up as some of the flesh peels away. Good. It’ll get the death off.

At some point, Peter realizes the dispenser is out of soap, and on second thought, he doesn’t remember the last time it was filled. Trembling fingers fumble for another container, and he slams it on the counter, other items plummeting to the ground. He’s halfway through the next bottle when soft, tender hands grasp his wrists, pulling the cracked fingernails away from shearing his cracked knuckles.

Aunt May is speaking to him, but Peter doesn’t hear it over the screaming and high-pitched whining. He distantly registers that he’s the one screaming, but doesn’t stop. He can’t face the silence. May goes to cup his face, but her hands fly back to the boy’s wrists when he resumes scrubbing. His hands aren’t even under water now, but he still follows the motions. There’s blood on his hands. He can’t get it off.

May’s turning red as well, and everything is such a dark red that it’s almost black. The blackness absorbs the room, trapping Peter- suffocating him. He deserves it. He shot her. He  _ killed _ her. May’s screaming now too, trying to get ahold of her nephew as he tips backwards.

“Peter!” Peter welcomes the darkness of unconsciousness before he even hits the ground. He’s a murderer.

* * *

When Peter comes to, he’s lying on the cold, hard tile of the bathroom, May hovering over to him. Something stings, and he realizes that she’s pressing toilet paper to his wrists in an attempt to staunch the bleeding. It hurts. When she sees his eyes open, she starts speaking, but it takes a moment for his hearing to come back.

“Peter! Speak to me, baby. Please,” She pleads. Peter mumbles her name, but the words feel like glass scratching his dry throat. He starts to close his eyes again, but he hears another voice calling his name, warbled and distant, but recognizable.

“Peter?” Mr.Stark’s voice?

“In here!” May cries, and Peter sees Tony skid to a stop to keep from passing the bathroom doorway. The billionaire rushes to his side.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know! I came home and found him screaming and scrubbing his hands. And then he- he passed out and I didn’t know what to do, so I just called you and-”

“It’s okay. You did the right thing,” Tony assures quickly, trying to keep both himself and the boy’s aunt calm.

Peter’s listening, but doesn’t have the energy to interject. The guilt of making Aunt May worry adds to the weight on his shoulders, and he can’t deal with it anymore. He clenches his eyes shut.

“Wait, wait, wait! Peter, stay-” Mr.Stark’s voice falls away when the kid passes back out.

* * *

Peter wakes again, shifting experimentally. He flexes his hands and realizes there are bandages running from his fingers to the top of his forearm.

“Pete?” Tony calls quietly. Peter opens his eyes. He’s on the couch in the living room, and Mr.Stark is lying on the other couch, still fully clad in a tuxedo. When he confirms the kid is awake, he sits up quickly and moves to Peter’s side.

“Mi’sr Stark,” Peter slurs, head pounding. The man nods and hands him a glass of water.

“Drink. What happened?” Mr.Stark asks. Peter feels a lump in his throat as the memory comes rushing back, and he gasps with a sudden sob. It’s his fault she died. Tony’s eyes widen, and he quickly tries to undo his mistake, but it’s too late. “Wait, kid-”

Peter vomits off the side of the couch, starting to slip off before Tony catches him and pushes him back against the pillows. The teenager cries himself back to sleep, not registering Tony’s frantic voice trying to calm him down.


	3. Insomnia (Tony Stark)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick Note: In this ficlet, Pepper also vanished with the Snap

“Okay, Tones. I’m headed out for that conference,” Rhodes announces from the doorway. Both of them moved into the compound after everything that happened with Thanos, but Rhodey has to leave that workweek for some meetings in Washington. Things haven’t been easy since the Snap. “Take it easy, okay?”

Tony waves a hand dismissively as he swallows his sip of coffee. “Okay.” Once Rhodey is gone, he pulls up blueprints for a new gadget and gets to work.

* * *

Tony hears the footsteps behind him but ignores them. They’re just auditory hallucinations. However, as they continue, the paranoia sets in and he swings around, fist moving to hit his target.

“Whoa, whoa,” A hand catches his fist, and Tony’s eyes squint, trying to focus on the attacker’s face. When the recognition of Rhodes clicks, Tony relaxes, settling back onto his stool. He reaches for the screwdriver, and it requires decent concentration to keep his hand from shaking and he twists a nail into the device. Rhodey raises an eyebrow and moves around to Tony’s side.

“Whatcha making?”

“Huh? Oh..,” It takes a minute for Tony to come up with a response. “Web-Gadget for Pete.”

Rhodes feels his heart clench. Peter’s gone. They’ve been over that fact, but now doesn’t seem like the time to argue with Tony. He never gets anywhere with it.

Rhodey inspects the dark circles under bloodshot eyes, as well as the messed up hair Tony is sporting. There are a few cuts on his hands probably from tools slipping, and Rhodes distantly thinks that these might have been the same clothes Tony wore when he left.

“Tony… how much sleep did you get last night?” Rhodey asks firmly.

“I… I didn’t,” Tony admits.

“When did you last sleep?”

“Um…”

“Friday?”

_“The boss slept for 5 hours on Sunday night.”_

“Sunday ni-“ Rhodes cuts himself off in a mixture of frustration and concern. “Jesus, Tony. It’s Friday afternoon.”

“Hmm. Is it?”

“I- I thought we were past this. Why didn’t you sleep the entire time I was gone?!”

“If I stay awake long ‘nough, I can see ‘em,” Tony slurs.

“Them?”

“Pepper n’ Peter,” A hand waves in the direction of a dimmer corner in the lab. Rhodes feels his chest tigthen. He doesn’t see anything, but Tony’s eyes glaze as he stares at the spot, hoping that Rhodey will see them too. Tony never sees his fiancee and kid head on. They’re always in his peripheral vision, but he clings to that vision like a lifeline.

“Sometimes I can hear ‘em too, sometimes,” Tony explains. He knows full well that they’re hallucinations, but couldn’t care less. Rhodes pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath.

“Okay… uh…. What normally helps you go to sleep?”

Tony’s eyes well up, and his voice cracks as the words come out. “Pepper helps.”

He misses her. He misses Peter, too. He misses them so, so much, and he’ll do anything to make the pain go away. He feels a lump rise in his throat, and tears threaten to escape. Tony fights them back, but Rhodey can read him like an open book.

“Man, we gotta get you to bed. C’mon,” He gently grabs his best friend’s bicep and pulls him to his feet. Tony wobbles, but stays up. Exhaustion has taken its toll, and his legs jiggle like jelly as his body searches for the energy to make him walk. He tries to focus on what Rhodey is saying, but everything is surreal and muddled in his tired state. He barely processes what’s happening, but the next thing he knows, Rhodey is easing him into bed.

“No,” Tony protests weakly. “Nightmares. Don’t wanna sleep.”

“Tones, you gotta sleep,” Rhodes urges. Tony can’t sleep. He knows he can’t, and he doesn’t want to anyway. With everything that’s happened, he’s reverted to the habit of foregoing sleeping to tinker. It’s just what he does, and Pepper’s not here to ground him now. When Rhodes starts to move away, his hand shoots out, grabbing the James’ sleeve.

“No. It’s cold. ‘ll wake up alone,” Tony whispers. Rhodey pauses for a moment, as if mulling something over, then moves suddenly.

“Fine,” He crawls into the other side of the bed, slipping under the covers. “I’m gonna stay here, but you gotta try to sleep, okay?”

“Hmpf,” Tony grumbles.

“Really, Tony. I’m worried about you. Sleep,” Rhodey rubs Tony’s forearm soothingly, hoping it’ll calm him. Tony drowsily makes a small noise in the back of his throat and scoots closer, cuddling up to his long-time friend. Rhodey smiles slightly and slips his arm behind Tony’s neck to let the smaller man lean on his shoulder. Within minutes, the sleep deprivation and comfort of Rhodey’s presence settle in, and Tony finally gives into the exhaustion, letting sleep claim him.

“Goodnight, Tones.”


	4. "No, Stop!" (Peter Parker & Mysterio)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This fic includes degrees of psychological torture and hallucinations, so take care of yourself, and don't read it if that upsets you! <3

“There’s some sort of smoke screen on 9th,” The police scanner reports, and Spider-Man can see it already.

“Alright, who we got this time?” Peter wonders aloud. He smiles slightly, muscles itching for action as his body prepares to fight. He hurries towards the smoke cloud, intending to dive right into the chaos and find whoever he has to beat.

Peter’s spider sense warns him too late. He’s already let go of his rope when he feels it, and he can’t stop himself from dropping into the smoke.

On his next breath in, he recognizes the insidious gas.  _ Not good! _ Spider-Man holds his breath as soon as he lands, already reaching behind him to web out of here, but he remembers that Mysterio’s gas can dissolve the webs. He can’t hold his breath much longer.

Spider-Man’s barely taken a step backward when a figure shoots out of the gas. Mysterio slams into him, sending him flying. Peter can’t rearrange his limbs in time to land.

Peter gasps when he hits the ground and regrets it instantly as the gases fill his lungs, stinging his throat. When he opens his eyes again, he can already see black swirls appearing around him. The hallucinogens are kicking in. He needs to move.

Spider-Man rolls to his hands and knees, but Mysterio is faster, using the springs embedded in his boots to land a devastating kick to the ribs. Peter yelps and falls onto his side in pain. He didn’t even feel him coming. His spider sense isn’t working! Why?! Peter knew about the hallucinogens and how he couldn’t shoot webs, but his powers? How did Beck figure out how to inhibit them?! He doesn’t have time to guess before Mysterio starts speaking.

“I was wondering when you’d show up, Spider-Man. I’ve been waiting for you.” Peter tries to get up, but his limbs feel heavy and weak.

“What do you want?” He pants, mustering all his strength to move his hands underneath him.

“I added a new paralysis element. Like it?” Mysterio teases. Spider-Man grits his teeth. It’s so, so hard, but he keeps trying. His hands are already there, and muscles contract as he pulls his knees toward his chest. It feels like he’s run a marathon. Feet next. Pain goes through his arches as he wedges his toes against the ground. Ignore it. Get up.

His metabolism fights the toxins, but a million hands push him back down as he pulls himself upright, and Spider-Man thinks gravity might have multiplied tenfold. The effort makes him grunt and breathe heavily. The world swirls the whole way through, but finally,  _ finally _ , he’s on his feet and-

Mysterio swipes his leg out from under him, sending the kid crashing back down to the ground. Peter wants to cry, and he just lies there in exhaustion. His instincts scream at him to get up and get out, but he just… can’t.

“Peter!” Spider-Man’s head jerks up at the sound of her voice. May?! What is she doing here?! His heart pounds as she gets close enough to make out. She shouldn’t… this is… it’s too dangerous. She’ll get hurt.

“May!” Spider-Man shouts. “Go!”

A shot rings out, and May is dead.

"NO!” Peter shrieks. With a surge of adrenaline, he scrambles to her body, but the instant he touches her, she vanishes. Peter’s hands fall through the illusion and hit the ground.

“Wha-“ Peter realizes that Mysterio is toying with him. This isn’t real. It’s just in his head. But that doesn’t lessen the pain.

Iron Man lands near him, and in his delirium, Peter feels safe for a brief moment. But then he remembers. Tony  _ died _ .

He recognizes the scratches in the armor from before. He knows this moment. He’s seen it too many times in his nightmares, and he knows what’s coming.

“No, stop! Please!” Peter cries. He can’t watch this. Not again. He tries to turn his head away, but he can’t. Not even as a sword is driven through Tony’s chest. Tony turns to look at him, clutching his chest.

“Why didn’t you save me?” He asks. Spider-Man wants to run to him, but he’s paralyzed. Iron Man takes a shaky step towards him and collapses, turning to dust when he hits the ground. Peter clenches his eyes shut and presses his forehead to the ground.  _ No. _

“Guy in the chaaaiiirrr!” Ned yells a battle cry as he charges at Mysterio in an attempt to save his best friend, but the villain just sidesteps. He grabs Ned’s arms and flips him, slamming him into the ground. Peter blinks rapidly. It could be fake, but he was with Ned when he got the NYPD alert. What if it’s real?! Mysterio kicks Ned, and he cries out in pain.

“No! Don’t! Hit me instead,” Spider-Man pleads. He commando crawls towards them, but he’s not getting any closer. Mysterio kicks Ned again, and the dude grabs at his leg defiantly. A gloved hand catches Ned’s wrist and pulls him arm up in a particular way. Peter hears the sickening snap as Mysterio breaks his arm.

“Stop it! Get away from him!” Peter screams. He finally gets closer, and panic chokes him as he realizes that Ned  _ isn’t _ disappearing. He’s really here. Mysterio grabs the back of Ned’s collar, dragging him away. Spider-Man gasps, trying to keep up as his best friend gets further from him, but it takes every ounce of effort to move, and the villain is faster than him. As Ned is pulled along, he leaves a trail of spiders that swarm Peter, engulfing his body. Spider-Man swipes them off his suit and tries to focus. They’re not really there. Ned is. But when he looks up, he can’t see anyone. He’s alone in the fog.

Voices call his name from every direction, but he doesn’t know where to go. He hears May and Tony and Ned and MJ and Happy and Mr.Delmar, but they keep moving around him. Mysterio re-emerges from the fog and Spider-Man hears the boots clomping towards him. Pain erupts in his abdomen, and he curls into a ball as the blows come endlessly. He can’t breathe. Can’t even think in this hell.

He can’t take the pain anymore, and his body starts to slacken, inviting him to pass out, but it’s then that Mysterio stops. All the noises and the yelling cease suddenly, and Peter sobs in relief. The man uses his foot to roll the teenager onto his back. He steps on his chest, keeping him pinned down- not that he needed too. The boy was too weak to fight him anyway. His face morphs into Tony’s, and Peter chokes on his own breath again.  _ No _ .

“You’re pathetic, Spider-Man,” Tony snarls, and Peter knows the disappointment in his eyes all too well. “You can’t save anyone. Not even yourself. You don’t deserve to have this job, you selfish brat.”

“No! Beck, stop! Please,” Peter resorts to using his enemy’s real name, trying to ground himself in reality. His hands fly to Iron Man’s boot, trying to shove it off. He needs to get out of here. He repeats the fact that it’s not real in his head like a broken record. Tony wouldn’t say those things.

“I regret ever taking you on. I was so  _ stupid _ to think that  _ you _ could possibly have a lick of potential.”

“ _ Tony _ ,” Peter sobs.

“The world would be better off without you,” Tony scoffs. Other voices return, telling him how terrible he is, how stupid. Spider-Man clenches his eyes shut under the mask, trying to shut it out. All of it.

“I’ll be back,” Mysterio whispers, right next to his ear this time. The whisper echos, and everything else decrescendos into silence. Peter’s alone now. A broken sob escapes him, and his shoulders shake. He’s too exhausted to get up. So he just lies there, quivering. Even when the SWAT team sweeps the area, he only responds to the officer checking on him with muted whimpers, unable to find the strength for words.


	5. Poison (Tony Stark)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Totally posted this at 11:58, but I made it lmao.

“So I come home, and as usual, check the lab for Tony. And y’know what? There’s webbing everywhere,” Pepper says. “Not just here and there. No. Tony set off a giant web bomb.”

“Ah, Tony,” Rhodes laughs, shaking his head. Tony just takes a sip of his scotch, smirking. The taste is bitter as it goes down this throat. Maybe a bit more bitter than usual, but he doesn’t mind.

“The lab looked like a winter wonderland. I couldn’t even find him at first. When I finally did, the idiot was stuck to the ground. And he just looks up at me and says ‘it’ll dissolve in a few hours’ as if nothing was weird about it.”

“And then she left me there. Good fiancée, isn’t she?” Tony drapes his arm around Pepper’s shoulders, and she scoots a little closer in their booth in the bar.

“Hey. I have no sympathy for you. That web explosion was your own fault, Babe,” Pepper scoffs. Her soft hand comes up to rest on top of the one on her shoulder.

Rhodey and Pepper resume chatting over their drinks, but Tony starts to feel off. He rubs his chest with his free hand.

“You good, Tones?” Rhodes asks, eyeing him carefully. He’d been doing relatively well lately, so Rhodes doesn’t think it’s an anxiety attack.

“Yeah. I just… uh… don’t feel very well,” Tony’s starting to feel hot, like his skin is itching.

“You’ve only had two drinks,” Pepper comments. She reaches to check his glass, but at that moment, Tony’s arm twitches, and he knocks the glass over. Rhodes stares at him.

“We should leave,” Rhodes says. He slaps cash down on the table as Tony scoots towards the edge of the bench. When Tony stands, everything swirls, and Rhodey barely catches him in time. He pulls Tony’s arm across his shoulder, pulling him towards the exit with an increasingly worried Pepper in tow.

They’re almost to the door when Tony collapses. Rhodey tries to catch him, but he hits the ground and immediately starts seizing. Other patrons scatter, and some of the women shriek, adding to the hailfire of stimulus that makes it worse.

“Shit!” Rhodes rushes to get things out of the way so Tony doesn’t hurt himself. Pepper’s hands fly to her mouth as Tony convulses uncontrollably, limbs flailing. Somebody stuffs a jacket under his head in attempt to cushion it. Two minutes later, Tony’s limbs slow to a stop, and the first thing his eyes focus on is Pepper. He tips onto his side and vomits.

“Tony!” Pepper cries, pulling his head into her lap when he’s done. Sweat streams down pale skin, and Tony quivers. Everything hurts. It’s getting harder to breathe, like a snake is constricting around his lungs. Pepper tilts his head back, trying to get his airways open, but it doesn’t help much. Tony stares up at her with glazed eyes. She’s so beautiful. He closes his eyes a little, just resting.

“Tony!” Pepper taps his shoulder frantically, and Tony opens them again. He’s tired, but he’s awake. For now. He thinks Pepper is asking Rhodey for help, but it’s distant and warbled. He reaches for his chest to unbutton his shirt. It’s hot. But his hands fumble on his chest, so he just lets them fall to his side.

The medics Rhodey called arrive, and the flashing siren lights blind Tony, everything turning red and white. Neurons fire faster than his brain can keep up, and he starts seizing again. He feels his back arch as his muscles contract and expand rapidly. Tony gasps for air, but his lungs aren’t working. He can’t breathe. Feet surround him, and hands grab his arms. It’s too much input. Too much stimulation! Tony blacks out.

* * *

 The first thing he’s aware of when he wakes up is the searing headache. Next comes the soreness when he tries to shift. Tony groans quietly, and hears a voice call out.

"Tony?” Pepper asks. Tony opens his eyes to see Pepper standing by the window of a hospital room. She crosses the distance between them quickly, running a hand through his hair that Tony leans into. He lifts his arm to touch her hip, but it hits a slender tube. His heart stops when he looks down. There’s a tube running into his chest. Not again. Pepper follows his gaze and realizes the impending panic.

“Shh. Tony, don’t worry. It’s just temporary. They had to hook you up to a respirator,” She assures, rubbing a hand across his bare chest to sooth him. Tony exhales forcefully.

“Why?” He’s surprised at how hoarse his voice is when it comes out, and a glass of water is pushed into his hand.

“Someone poisoned you, and your lungs weren’t working right. You stopped breathing,” Pepper’s breath hitches as she reaches the edge of the sentence, and Tony quickly musters a smile to calm her.

“I’m here now.” He looks to the closed hospital door, thinking about who might have tried to kill him, and if they’ll finish the job.

“Rhodey’s giving a statement to the police, but Steve is in the hall. He showed up as soon as he could. He’s been out there for hours, insisting he needs to keep watch and protect you.” It’s amazing how Pepper reads his mind. He relaxes into the bed a bit more, nodding. Steve will keep him safe.

“Get some rest,” Pepper says, and Tony relishes the cool surface of her lips as they press against his forehead, and he drifts back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my best work, but I'll take it.


	6. Betrayal (Peter Parker )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note that this was inspired by a scene in the Ultimate Spider-Man comics (2000)

 

“No way! Seriously?” Peter gapes at Harry.

“Yeah. Y’know, my old man just feels bad about the whole spider bite thing. I mean, you were in the hospital for days. And he found out you like science and stuff, so he told me to bring you into the lab,” Harry explains sheepishly. He shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, trying to wipe off the sweat.

“Oh I am so down. This is going to be lit! When can we go?” Peter stammers. His eyes light up with excitement at the prospect of meeting some of the most renowned scientists of his time. He has so many questions to ask.

“Does… uh… does this afternoon work?” Harry asks. Peter nods. He has that wrestling thing tonight, but he’s sure he won’t be at the lab long enough that he’ll be late to a 10 o’clock match. Besides, he might be able to sneak a glance at any files pertaining to the spider that bit him. After all, he’s still trying to figure out what powers he has.

“Okay. Just meet me at the flagpole once 6th period gets out, okay?” Harry gives a tight-lipped smile and walks away quickly. This feels wrong.

* * *

_ “I need you to bring your friend Peter into the lab,” Norman says. Harry looks up from his plate, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. _

_ “Peter? Why?” _

_ “We want to run some tests on him,” Norman explains. _

_ “What? You want to… to experiment on him?!” Harry sets his fork down quickly. _

_ “No, no, no. Nothing like that. It’s- well, sorta. We’ve been tracking him, and we think we can help him by running some tests.” _

_ “You’re stalking him?” _

_ “No. More like protecting him,” Norman clarifies. Harry avoids his gaze, and Norman doesn’t miss his son’s uncomfortable shift. He tries to recover. “Harry, I need you to understand something. That spider that bit him… it’s affecting him in some weird ways, and we just want to learn more about it.” _

_ “I’m not going to bring you a guinea pig for experiments,” Harry declares firmly. _

_ “We’re not using him like that, son. We want to make sure we understand the effects of the bite. Then we can make sure he’ll be okay. You care about him, right? You want to protect him?” _

_ “Yeah… He’s my friend,” Harry mumbles. _

_ “Then bring him in. Just tell him we’re giving him a tour. You’re going to be helping him. I promise. Just don’t tell him why,” Norman urges. Harry hesitates and grips the edge of the table. _

_ “Will he be uncomfortable at all? Be completely honest with me, Dad. No bullshit.” _

_ “He might be a little uncomfortable,” Norman sighs. “But it’s for his own good. We need to do this. We won’t do more than we feel is necessary. Harry, please? I need you to trust me.” Harry bites his lip nervously. His dad already thought he was weak. Maybe this would be best for everyone. _

_ “Okay. Fine.” _

* * *

"This is so cool!” Peter trots ahead to get into the lab, and Harry just makes a sound of affirmation.

“Ah, Mr.Parker. You’re here,” Dr.Octavius smiles at the teenager whose eyes go wide.

“Doc Ock?! You- you’re legendary. I can’t believe I get to meet you!” Peter shakes his hand vigorously. Doc Ock just nods knowingly.

“Nice to meet you too, Mr.Parker.”

“You can call me Peter. It’s fine. Really,” He looks back to Harry, who’s standing near the door and mouths ‘oh my god’.

“Okay, Peter. Why don’t I show you what we’re working on?” Dr.Octavious puts a hand on the boy’s shoulder and guides him away from the door towards a console. The doctor lets go to start pulling something up on the computer.

He’s buzzing with so much anticipation at seeing groundbreaking research that he doesn’t hear the muscular guards walk in. His spider sense goes off at the last second, and he whirls around only for a man to grab his wrist.

“Hey!” Peter tries to loosen the grip, but the man just pulls his arm across, grabbing the kid in a bear hug. He struggles, but the grip from behind is too strong, and his arms are pinned against his body.

“Let go!” Peter yells. He wants to fight back, but isn’t sure if they should know about his powers. A syringe goes into his arm, and it hurts as some liquid goes into him. “What the-“

“We’ve got him, boss,” The man who injected him says. Peter looks up to see Norman Osborn in the hallway, with a guilty looking teenager beside him.

“Good job, Harry. I knew you’d pull through,” He pats Harry’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you, son.”

“Harry?” Peter gapes at him, and he’s already starting to feel sick.

“Wait. Dad, you… you said you’ll only do what you have to, right?” Harry mumbles. Peter renews his struggles when he suddenly understands the predicament, but Harry just averts his gaze from his friend.

“Of course, Harry. Why don’t you go home?” Norman urges. Peter shoots Harry a pleading look, but he’s promptly guided out. How could Harry do this?

“Stop struggling,” The man holding him growls, but it just encourages Peter, and he tries to buck him off as his vision starts to blur. His sneaker hits a cart, and lab supplies clatter everywhere.

“Help!” Peter cries, but it’s too late, and he fades out.

* * *

“-waking up,” Peter becomes aware of a distant voice and groans. His head pounds like a giant drum.

“Already? It’s only been 20 minutes. That should’ve knocked him out for an hour.”

“Metabolism must be faster than we thought.”

“Noted.” Peter forces his eyes open, but he’s temporarily blinded by a white light. He blinks rapidly, and the room slowly comes into focus. He’s restrained like an upright starfish, and there’s no give in the space around his wrists. What the heck?! There are scientists on the other side of a glass panel.

“What is this?” Peter asks. Doc Ock reaches for a button.

“Hello, Peter. Excuse the restraints,” He doesn’t offer any reason for it. “We’re just going to be testing a few things today, and then you’ll be free to go.”

“But… I didn’t consent to anything,” Peter looks to the other scientists for help, but none of them will meet his eyes. He’s relatively ignored.

“We’re just going to start with some sound tests to figure out your hearing.” A low tone is heard, kinda quiet, but over time, the pitch increases. Peter flinches when it jumps up a notch, ringing throughout his entire head. It grows louder and more insistent, and it  _ hurts _ .

“Stop!” He protests, but it keeps getting louder, and the next thing he knows, he’s opening his eyes and the digital clock has jumped two minutes ahead. There’s no more sound beyond tinnitus, and his limbs are twitching painfully. Did he pass out?

A door opens, and a scientist comes in holding a scalpel. Peter’s breath hitches in his throat, and he barely understands as the man says something about testing regeneration and pain tolerance. They’re going to hurt him more.

* * *

Hours later, Peter is sobbing and shaking. He can’t escape. He’s tried everything, but the restraints won’t budge. He doesn’t even protest as they bring the taser to his body again.

They’ve tested everything they can think of, hurting him in the worst forms of testing possible. He’s been choked, punched, cut, drugged, and electrocuted, with no relief except a few mental tests where they would shock him if he refused to cooperate.

He flinches as someone draws near, catching a tear in a test tube as if that part of him would somehow be abnormal. He can’t even cry here. Everything hurts, and he just wants to go home and never leave.

“Please,” He whispers, voice hoarse from all the screaming. After what feels like an eternity, they finally stop, and a scientist casually announces that they’re done for the night, as if they didn’t just torture a teenager.

Someone explains the deal to him and he just nods frantically, wanting so, so desperately to leave. They promise that if Peter tells anyone about this, they’ll report the illegal wrestling ring and have his record ruined for life. He’s reminded that the underworld around the ring will likely hunt him down if he ruins it for them.

Peter quivers and says yes repeatedly, praying they’ll let him out soon. They hook a band monitoring vitals to his wrist and threaten to surgically install it if he takes it off. Then, finally, they inject with another shot, and he gratefully welcomes unconsciousness.

* * *

The next day, Harry tentatively approaches Peter in the hallway. When he arrives at his locker and touches his shoulder, Peter jumps. When he turns around, Harry actually takes a step backward in shock.

Peter looks wrecked. His eyes are bloodshot and have dark bags under them. His skin is pale from the drugs, and his hair is sticking in every direction. But the worst thing is the look of utter betrayal in Peter’s eyes as he gazes at a friend- no, an ex-friend- who hurt him.

“Why?” Peter whispers, and Harry winces at the brokenness in a voice that used to hold so much light.

“I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this,” Harry cries.

“You did. You knew,” Peter accuses, but even then, his words remain quiet and meek.

“I knew they wanted to test some things, but I didn’t- I didn’t think they would hurt you,” Harry explains in a hushed whisper, trying to hide the conversation from surrounding students.

“You were my  _ friend _ . You left me,” Peter looks seconds away from collapsing, and Harry feels like someone’s stabbed him.

“Pete. I’m sorry. Oh man. Please-“ He reaches for Peter’s shoulder to comfort him, but the boy bats his arm away.

“Don’t touch me!” Peter shouts, and other students turn to look _. _ Peter turns and shoves through the crowd, trying to get as far away as possible, and Harry slumps to the ground against the lockers. What has he done?


	7. Kidnapped (Peter Parker)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Stark Industries employee starts to notice how attached Tony seems to his intern, and exploits it.

“I’m getting to the bottom of the tower now, Mr.Stark,” Peter adjusts the strap of his backpack on his shoulder.

“Okay, kiddo. I got hot chocolate waiting for you up here. Come to my office,” Mr.Stark chirps. Peter hangs up and walks a little faster. He’s already running late because he had to make up a quiz after school, and hot chocolate sounds real nice right.

“Hey, Peter,” A voice calls. Peter looks to the right and recognizes Curtis, one of the marketing managers who works on the same floor as Mr.Stark’s office.

“Oh. Hi, Mr.Rowley. What’s up?” Peter sends him a warm smile.

“Not much. Can you help me out for a minute? I’m trying to get some stuff up to my office, but I don’t want to do two trips in this weather.”

“Uh..,” Peter looks to the entrance of the tower and back to the parking lot. What’s another minute? “Yeah. I can give you a hand.”

“Great. Follow me.” Snow crunches with each footstep towards the parking garage, and Peter rubs his nose absentmindedly. He’s vaguely aware that they’re alone in the parking lot, but it doesn’t bother him much. It’s not quite time for people to be leaving work yet.

They arrive at a grey van near the end of the lot, and Peter adjusts the sleeves of his winter coat to make sure he’ll have free hands. Rowley reaches for the handle of the back door, and that’s when Peter senses it. He backpedals just before the doors burst open, masked men pouring out.

There’s only four guys plus Mr.Rowley. He can take that, right? Peter lifts his arm to web one of them, but realizes he’s not wearing the shooters. He took them off earlier because they didn’t fit under his jacket, and even if they were on, it hits him that Peter Parker shouldn’t be webbing people up. He can’t use his powers.

Peter runs, but he doesn’t have enough of a head start, and someone grabs him from behind, pinning his arms to his side. The teenager thrashes in the grip as he’s dragged backward. He sees someone approach him from the front, so he drops his weight. The man behind him loses his balance, and Peter stomps on his foot to loosen the grip. He finally breaks free and charges forward, ramming his shoulder into the guy who was coming at him head-on. The dude tumbles backwards, and Peter escapes.

“Grab him!” Rowley orders. Peter looks over his shoulder to see if he’s being followed and like the dumbass he is, slips on ice. He slams into the ground. Oh crap. Before he can get up, someone’s on top of him, and a fist slams into his face. Peter’s forearms fly up to protect him from any more blows. Hands grab his wrists, holding them above his head. Peter struggles, moving his hands closer together. He tries to hit the alert button on the watch Tony gave him, but the guy notices and pulls his hands apart.

“Get the watch off before you cuff him,” The man on top of him barks in a gruff voice. He feels another pair of hands unclasping the watch and tilts his head back to see another attacker.

“Get off!” Peter growls. The watch is gone and his hands are cuffed. He thrashes beneath the man pinning him, but this guy is huge, and he doesn’t think he has enough leverage without using his powers. He tries anyway, and manages to roll the guy onto his side, but Peter is promptly kicked in the spine. His back arches in pain, and another kick hits him in the face, smashing his nose.

Peter reflexively pulls his knees towards his chest when someone hits him in the stomach, and they take the chance to cuff his feet. Someone wrestles Peter to his feet and drags him back towards the van, but all the boy can do is thrash around. When he refuses to get in, the man shoves him forward, and his hip collides painfully with the edge of the truck floor. He’s hauled in, and they use a third pair of handcuffs to attach his hands to a metal grid separating the front seat and back storage.

“Let me go!” Peter yells, but they ignore him. He feels them cut his backpack off, and Rowley grabs the phone out of the pocket he spied Peter putting it in.

“No!” Peter feels his heart sink as both his backpack and phone are thrown out of the vehicle. His watch is gone too, so unless Tony secretly implanted a tracker in him, he’s alone. The vehicle lurches into motion, and Peter would’ve fallen if not for the grid forcing him to stand.

* * *

“He’s not- Peter has nothing to do with this, Curtis. Let him go,” Tony pleads into the video call.

“Not until you give me the money,” Mr.Rowley growls.

“You asked for 20 million. I don’t have that much liquid money on hand. I promise I’ll get it to you if you let him go,” Tony reasons. Curtis snorts in frustration and begins pacing, allowing Tony a glance at his kid sitting in a chair. His nose is bloodied, but he seems otherwise intact.

“You promise? Just like you promised I had a long future with the company? You were planning to fire me, Stark.”

“I know. Just-”

“SHUT UP,” Rowley snaps. “Get me the goddamn money. The sooner the better, because until I get it, I’m going to spend my time beating the shit out of your ‘intern’, if that’s what he really is.”

“Wait-” Tony starts, but Curtis ends the call. Peter watches him pace, running his hands through his hair and mumbling to himself. He’s psychotic. Mr.Rowley turns suddenly and strides towards Peter, who tenses. A fist hits his cheek, followed by a burst of pain.

“Fuck Stark,” Curtis hisses, and another blow hits the side of his head.

“I’m probably getting replaced by  _ you _ , brat.” Peter wheezes when he’s punched in the stomach.

“You just show up out of nowhere, and Stark suddenly  _ adores _ you. He treats you like a hell lot more of an intern, Petey. Hope you know that,” The last word ends in a grunt as he kicks the boy in the gut. He’s taking all of his anger out on Peter.

“I hope you know you’re messing with  _ Iron Man _ ,” Peter quips. “Not the smartest plan if you ask me, Mr.Rowley.” The man scoffs and grabs a fistful of curls, yanking Peter’s head back.

“I’ve had enough. You guys want a piece of this?” Rowley asks the other guys he hired. They exchange glances.

“Nah man. We’ll just keep watch,” One of them responds, eyeing the kid. Rowley shrugs.

“That’s fine. More for me. You and me are gonna have some fun,” Curtis grins. Peter bites his lip.

* * *

45 minutes later, Peter’s a mess. Curtis Rowley is relentless in using the teenager as his personal punching bag. His nose is definitely broken, in addition to a few ribs, and his face is bruised and swelling in several places. Blood drips down from various cuts, mingling with the sweat layering his body.

Curtis finally seems to be slowing down, and Peter’s beyond grateful. He’s definitely got a concussion, and it’s getting hard to stay awake. He doesn’t know how much longer he can keep this up. Rowley paces away from him and grabs a flask, downing its contents. When he storms back over to Peter, he leans close, and Peter can smell the alcohol in his breath.

“Having fun, Petey?” He teases. Peter just blinks, and Curtis shoves him away in frustration. “Alright, this is getting boring. Anyone got a knife?” He walks away again, and Peter tests the restraints. He probably still can’t escape, and his wrists are already bloody from reflexively pulling at the cuffs. Punching is one thing, but a knife? That could go much, much worse.

“Here we are,” Rowley brandishes a knife in front of him, and Peter tries to lean away, but Rowley grabs his chin to hold him still. The knife stings as it cuts a line along his cheekbone. Then, on a whim, Rowley moves it down to brush his neck teasingly, and Peter’s heart skips a beat.

“I’d say Stark’s had enough time,” Curtis chuckles. “And he’ll probably deliver the money before he finds out you’re dead.” The tip of the knife pushes into soft flesh, drawing blood, and Peter closes his eyes. It has been long enough. Tony should be here soon, but Peter’s running out of time, and he knows Mr.Rowley is too far gone to reason with.

As if reading his mind, Iron Man flies through the window, tackling Rowley. He pins the man down, and he wants so, so badly to kill him, but he knows Peter would want him to live. Before the other men can shoot, Iron Patriot takes them out. He strides over to Peter.

“You okay?” Rhodes asks. Peter nods, and he moves behind him to cut him free. Tony punches Curtis out and then jumps out of the suit, hurrying to his kid. As soon as his hands are free, Peter flies into him.

“Tony!” Peter clutches the man tightly, not caring that his feet are still cuffed. Tony wraps his arms around the kid, nuzzling his chin into his soft curls.

“I’m so sorry. I got here as soon as I could,” Tony says, noting how bloody his face is.

“‘S okay. I wasn’t scared,” Peter assures.

“You weren’t?”

“No. I knew you’d save me,” Pete mumbles against his chest, and Tony pulls him a little tighter. What did he ever do to deserve this kid?

“My god… I love you, Pete.”

“Love you too.”


	8. Fever (Peter Parker)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter's sicker than he lets on, and Tony tries to take care of him. Also includes some cute domestic Pepperony.

“Can he stay with you for a couple nights? I’ll only be gone for the weekend, and normally he’d be fine, but he’s a little sick. And though he won’t admit it, Peter hates being home alone while he’s sick,” May explains over the phone.

“Yeah. Of course he can stay over. I can have Happy get him from school Friday,” Tony takes a sip of his coffee.

“Thank you so much, Tony. I’ll have him get a bag together.”

And that is how they ended up here. Pepper is curled up against Tony on one couch while Peter is sprawled on the other. Peter’s face was red with embarrassment when he first arrived, denying that he needs to be babysat because he isn’t “that sick”, but he apparently feels sick enough to sit away from Tony in fear of infecting his mentor. Tony’s focus shifts away from their movie when Peter rolls onto his side to cough violently.

“You good, kiddo?” Tony asks. When Peter stops coughing, he nods.

“Yeah,” His voice comes out scratchy and tired. “I’m just going to grab some water.”

“Peter, there’s some tylenol in the cabinet. Take some of that, okay sweetie?” Pepper calls after him.

“Okay!” Peter responds from the kitchen, followed by a few coughs. When he comes back, he’s almost finished with his water bottle, and he curls up under a blanket. When the movie ends, Tony makes a comment about it, but receives no response from the teenager.

“Peter?” Tony calls. He takes his arm from around Pepper’s shoulder and walks over to Peter. He’s passed out under the blanket. “Hey kid, wake up.”

“Hmm?” Peter mumbles, and it’s then that Tony notices the layer of sweat covering him. Yeah… this kid is sick.

“It’s time for you to go to bed, underoos.” Peter grumbles at him, not feeling this whole ‘getting up’ thing.

“C’mon, Pete,” Tony says, grabbing his arm. He helps Peter up, and the world spins for a moment, but Peter finds his balance and trudges to his room like a tired sloth. Pepper grabs Tony’s hand, and the two quietly go to bed for the night.

* * *

Tony wakes up in the middle of the night, but when he goes to grab a glass of water, he hears coughing coming from Peter’s room. He knocks gently on the door, but no response comes. The coughing stops, only to be followed by a horrid retching sound.

“Peter?” Tony slowly opens the door to his room, but Peter’s not in bed. Hesitantly, Tony pushes open the bathroom door and sees Peter on his knees in front of the toilet. His heart sinks as he does, squatting down next to the poor kid.

“Hey Pete,” Tony coos. He sets a hand on his back, but Peter flinches and vomits again. His throat burns with the stomach acid, and his entire body aches with the effort. Peter groans and leans back against the cabinets.

“You done, bud?” Tony asks, and receives a tired nod. Tony bites his lip nervously. He’s never dealt with a sick kid before. All those years, he never once babysat, and the only time he ever took on the role of a caregiver was for his own drunk or sick ass when his parents were gone. He furrows his brow, trying to think of anything he can do. Peter’s shirt is drenched with sweat, and his curls stick to his head.

“Are you hot?”

“‘M cold,” Peter slurs. Tony presses his lips together.

“Okay, well, uh… let’s at least get you into something dry. Want to get back in bed?” Tony asks. When Peter mumbles something that sounds like no and sorry, Tony assures him it’s okay. He leaves for a brief moment and returns with another shirt from Peter’s bag.

“Here we go, Pete,” Tony squats down next to him with the fresh shirt. Peter nods and tries to take his shirt off, but his movements are sluggish and clumsy, so Tony has to help him. Peter’s wiping the excess sweat off with a towel when he suddenly lurches back to the toilet, emptying what little is left in his stomach. Tony stares at him in concern. What is he sick with? Does he need to go to the hospital?! “How bad is it?”

“‘S okay, Mr.Stark. Jus’ a cold or sumthin,” Peter slurs. He wipes his mouth and slumps back in exhaustion. Tony tilts his head.

“Seems like a bit more than a cold,” Tony persists, but Peter just shrugs. The billionaire sighs and hands him the new top, but he has to help the boy get it back on too. Peter’s eyes are drifting shut, and Tony realizes he’s about to fall asleep, so he tries to get him into a better place.

“C’mon, Pete. Time to go to get in bed,” Tony helps Peter up, but Peter’s muscles feel weak, and he leans on Tony more heavily than the man would have liked. Tony registers that the bed is still made, meaning that Peter never even got in after the movie, and a pang of guilt ran through him. How did he miss how sick he was? He gets Peter under the covers, and the kid gasps in relief when he’s able to relax into the pillows.

“I’m gonna get you some water, ok?” Tony strokes his hair and leaves to the kitchen. As he feels up a glass of water, he hears quiet footsteps padding into the room.

“Tony? What are you doing?” Pepper asks tiredly. Tony turns around and gives her a smile.

“Hey, Pep. Peter’s not feeling well. I’ve got it, though,” He assures. Pepper ignores him and moves to the medicine cabinet, pulling out more tylenol.

“Has he eaten anything?”

“He didn’t eat much dinner, and he’s been throwing up, so I didn’t want to push it on him,” Tony explains. Pepper hums.

“He needs to have something in him,” Pepper grabs some soup-at-hand and shoves it in the microwave. “See if you can get him to drink this.”

“Okay. I’m a little worried he might have to go to the hospital,” Tony says quietly. Pepper raises her eyebrows.

“Is it that bad?” She asks. Tony shrugs. “Did you ask FRIDAY?”

“Oh. Erm… no. Didn’t think of it,” Tony admits. How did that not occur to him?

“Peter has influenza. Unless he has a fever over 104 degrees fahrenheit, he does not need to be brought to the hospital,” FRIDAY reports.

“You’re cute,” Pepper smiles.

“What?”

“It’s cute that you’re so concerned,” Pepper ruffles his hair as she leaves. “You’ll be a good father.” Tony feels a warmth spread through his chest at the compliment, but he’s promptly pulled out of his thoughts when the microwave beeps at him. Tony grabs a wet washcloth, medicine, the water, and the soup before heading back to Peter’s room.

“Hey Bud,” Tony brushes his hair back and puts the washcloth against his forehead. “Feeling any better?”

“Sorta… sorry,” Peter mumbles.

“For what?” Tony asks. Peter just shrugs, so Tony presses the glass of water and pills into his hands and watches him drink half the glass in one go.

“Can you try to drink some soup?” Tony asks. Peter nods and grabs it from the sidetable. Once he’s finished it, Peter shuffles down in the pillows and pulls the covers back up to his chin.

“Are you gonna get some sleep?”

“I’ll try,” Peter mumbles. “I’ve got a really bad headache. My head’s pounding, and everything hurts, and I-I can’t fall asleep.” Tony sighs and lays down over the covers.

“FRIDAY, pull up  _ Empire Strikes Back _ on the screen,” Tony says quietly. “That’ll distract you, Pete. Just try and focus on that, and it’ll help, okay?” He watches Peter intently, and by the time Obi-Wan tells Luke to go to the Dagobah system, the boy’s eyes finally slip shut, followed soon after by Tony’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was really more fluff than whump, but you know what? fight me.


	9. Stranded (Peter Parker & Miles Morales)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been kinda inspired lately by some tumblr posts about Peter mentoring younger heroes when he gets older, as well as the Into the Spider-Verse trailers, so I took a stab at a mentor/mentee relationship between them. Cue these two dorks trying to save each other.

When Miles wakes up, he wakes up fighting. He bursts up and swings out, expecting someone to be on top of him like before, but there’s no one touching him.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Miles! It’s just us,” Peter says. Miles blinks slowly, trying to figure everything out. His head pounds and last thing he remembers, he’d gotten ambushed, and they stabbed him in the arm with something. Now, he appears to be in an… airplane? A little four-seater with Peter flying it in his full Spider-Man suit, and outside is nothing but desert.

“What happened?” Miles asks. “Where the hell are we?”

“Uh… when you stopped responding, I went to the airport and found both you and the bad guys gone. And the flight logs said you’d gone to Cairo.”

“Egypt?!” Miles cries. “Oh man. My parents are gonna freak. How long have we been gone?!”

“Maybe 12 hours? I’m trying to get us back… but uh… nevermind,” Peter mutters, tapping at a few things on the console. Miles thinks Peter is looking for something, but he doesn’t know what. “There’s a protein bar in that backpack. Your metabolism is going to need something to fight off whatever they drugged you with.”

“So, how did we get here?” Miles asks, digging around for it. It’s not his favorite flavor, but as soon as Peter mentions it, he realizes how hungry he is and devours it.

“I found you near their HQ, put a couple trackers on their vehicles, grabbed you, and got us out. You woke up a couple times, but whatever they gave you was really strong.”

“Oh… I’m so sorry, Peter. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I looked around before I engaged, just like you said, but I-I just didn’t know they were enhanced, and the guy caught me off guard. I didn’t-“

“It’s okay, Miles. You’re fine now, and that’s what matters,” Peter assures. He reaches behind to grab Miles’ hand and give it a small squeeze. He’s not really sure if that’ll help, but he knows that always calmed him down when he was younger. Miles frowns and tries to shut down the anxiety.

“How did you get a plane?”

“Uh..,” Peter hesitates. “Someone had just landed it at their hideout, and it was still running, so I just set you in the backseat and stole it. However, there’s… uh… not that much fuel in this thing.”

“What?!” Miles climbs over the console and sits in the passenger seat. The line is below empty, and there’s no civilization in sight. “Do you know where you’re going?”

“Nope,” Peter chuckles. “I didn’t think to grab a map, and school never taught me much geography, so I’ve just kinda been flying and hoping for the best.”

“Are we gonna crash?!” Miles asks. Peter bites his lip.

“Probably.” It’s then that Miles notices the gash on Peter’s chest, but he doesn’t want to ask. It’s his fault. Neither of them say anything for 10 minutes, but then the plane starts beeping.

“Is that-“

“Yup,” Peter grits his teeth.

“What are we gonna do?!” Miles cries, panic rising in his throat. He can’t die like this. His parents would be devastated.

“Stay calm. I have a plan. I think,” Peter holds the ((steering wheel)) tightly, but it’s shaking violently. “We probably need to jump out near the ground.”

“What?!”

“We’ll get trapped in the warped metal if we stay. Our bones will be strong enough. Trust me,” Peter webs the steering wheel into a straight position and gets up. “Come on.”

“This is crazy!” Miles protests, but he follows him anyway. Peter grabs his backpack and realizes the kid’s right. He is crazy. But he’s done crazy before.

“Grab onto me, okay?” Peter orders, and Miles clutches him tightly. Peter kicks the door off of the plane, and the young man nearly stumbles back at the sudden rush of air, but he grabs onto the doorframe as everything equalizes.

The ground is coming closer, and Peter takes a deep breath. He wraps an arm around Miles and jumps. They’re flying through the air now, but it’s not like it normally is. There’s no crutch of a building to swing on now. Peter twists them in midair, putting Miles so Peter will take the brunt of the fall, and that’s the last thing he sees.

* * *

“-eter! Peter!” A voice yells. Peter groans and waves his hand dismissively.

“M awake,” He mumbles. He opens his eyes to the overly bright lights of the desert and sees Miles hovering over him.

“Oh thank god,” Miles gasps. “I thought I killed you.”

“I’m okay,” Peter brushes Miles to the side and slowly sits up, but his head pounds. “How long was I out?”

“Maybe 5 minutes.” Peter nods. That’s not too bad.

“We should keep moving,” Peter forces himself to his feet, but it takes him a minute to catch his balance. He feels a faint burn on his chest and looks down. His wound started bleeding again. He starts walking in the direction they were flying. If they go long enough, they have to hit something eventually.

So that’s what they do. They just keep going. They go up a sand mound and down another time and time again, but the desert keeps expanding. No sign of civilization appears, and they have no supplies.

“Sorry, kid. This is all my fault,” Peter says quietly.

“What do you mean? I was the one who got captured.”

“Yeah.. but… I shouldn’t have let you go alone. I remember pushing Tony away for being overbearing, and I was afraid I would be too overprotective of you, so when you asked to handle this one by yourself, I said yes. I was dumb. You weren’t ready,” Peter sighs. Miles wants to refute it and say he was ready, but he realizes he wasn’t. He got caught, and now they’re stranded in the middle of the desert. So he focuses on the first part of what Peter said.

“Tony? Who’s that?” He asks, not wanting to jump to conclusions. Peter rubs the back of his head.

“Tony Stark mentored me for a while.”

“Iron Man was your mentor?!” Miles gapes. Peter chuckles.

“You could call it that. He helped me a lot- gave me a better suit, gave me some advice, taught me what to look out for, that kind of thing. He mostly just wanted to keep me safe while I learned the ropes… and I guess that’s what I’m trying to do for you.”

“Oh,” Miles says, thinking about how amazing that must have been. However, he remembers the downside. “It must’ve been hard for you then… when he died.” Peter grits his teeth.

“Yeah,” Peter’s voice is distant as he retreats into his own head, unwanted memories pushing to the forefront of his mind. “I was there… took it pretty hard. Let’s not talk about though, okay kid? Just focus on getting out of here.”

“Right. Sorry,” Miles types in his passcode to his phone. “I don’t have any signal.”

“Me neither. We just gotta walk and hope for the best.”

“Is your wound okay?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Peter mumbles. His regenerative factor should’ve taken care of it by now, but without any food and water, the combination of constant heat and movement keeps the blood oozing out. He’s starting to feel weak, but he doesn’t want to worry Miles.

After another few hours, Miles hears a shuffle and turns back just in time to see Peter stumble. “Peter?”

“I’m good,” Peter says quickly, but he doesn’t sound as convincing as earlier. He pointedly matches his pace to Miles. Miles just frowns, licking his dry lips to keep them from cracking.

As the sun starts to set, Peter slips on some loose sand at the top of a mound, and next thing he knows, he’s tumbling down to the bottom. He doesn’t get up.

“Peter?” Miles stumbles down after him, falling to his knees next to the mentor he’s only had for a month. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah… just-“ Peter stops mid-sentence and rolls onto his side, vomiting. His heart thuds against his chest threateningly, and Peter knows he’s having heatstroke, but there’s nothing he can do. They can’t stay here. He tries to sit up, but the world spins, and he falls back to the sand.

“Peter, what do I do?” Miles asks desperately. He’s got his own headache from the drugs and dehydration, and he’s lost in more ways than just geographically. Peter just shrugs. He starts to close his eyes.

“Wait, wait,” Miles shakes his shoulder, and Peter forces his eyes back open. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Find sumthin,” Peter slurs, and before the kid can stop him, his eyes roll back into his head. Miles shakes him again, but he doesn’t get a response. Peter’s pulse is barely there, and the man’s breathing comes in ragged pants. He sits back on his heels, feeling that swell of panic coming in. He’s on his own.

Miles gets up and paces around, trying to think of something. It’s getting dark. They don’t have any food or water. There’s no signal. He scrambles back to the top of the mound and looks around. There’s nothing nearby. He returns to Peter and pulls the backpack out from under him, digging through it. Maybe there’s something he can use.

There’s not much. There’s an emergency toolkit, a small tablet, old cell phone, a few snack wrappers, a portable battery and charge cord, and extra cartridges of web fluid. However, he’s still got no signal, and he’s starting to feel dizzy himself. He rubs his eyes tiredly, thinking of home. He just wants to sit at the dinner table with his parents, eating spaghetti with the soft drone of the police radio in the-  _ wait _ . He gets an idea.

* * *

Peter wakes up and tries to shift, but he feels the needle in the crook of his arm and stops. Huh? A hospital room comes into view, and it takes a moment, but Peter realizes there’s a bed next to him with Miles in it. They’re both hooked up to IV drips, but Miles seems a lot more alert as he scrolls through something on his phone.

“Miles?” The kid jumps slightly at Peter’s voice, but then settles back into the pillows.

“You’re awake,” He states quietly.

“Yeah,” Peter responds. He feels like shit, but he’s awake. “Someone found us?”

“Sorta,” Miles shrugs. “I… uh… tore apart your phone and tablet. Sorry.”

“You… you what?”

“I made a radio,” Miles explains sheepishly. “I can pay for a new phone, I promise!”

“You made a radio out of my phone?” Peter sits up a little, eyes widening.

“I am so sorry, Peter! Some older phones have FM chips in them… so I just gave it a shot… y’know? I’m really sorry.”

“Sorry?! Don’t be. Miles… that’s brilliant,” Peter gapes. “I never would’ve thought of that.”

“It just popped into my head. I don’t know why, but I just knew it would work,” Miles mumbles. Peter scoffs, looking up at the ceiling. “Are you mad?”

“Mad? No. I’m proud,” Peter chuckles. “You’re gonna be a great Spider-Man, Miles. You already are.”


	10. Bruises (Peter Parker)

“I’m going to pick up our Chinese takeout,” Peter announces when his phone buzzes with the alert.

“Okay, sweetie. Be safe,” May reminds.

“Of course. I’ll be back in 15, tops,” Peter squeezes her hand, grabs his wallet, and walks out the door. He’s Spider-Man. No one’s going to hurt him.

He’s wrong.

“Hey man, whatcha up to?” A voice calls out. Peter tenses and picks up his pace, but so do the footsteps behind him. He grunts as he’s shoved into a back alley.

“Okay, kid. What do you have on you?” The mugger asks. At the sight of three other guys. Peter tries to slip away, but he’s pushed against a brick wall, and the rough texture scratches his cheek.

“Nothing,” Peter knows the lie is worthless as one of the thugs pats him down and grabs his wallet. Peter doesn’t think it through. He just jerks his elbow back, and it impacts with a burst of blood.

“Oh shit!” One of the guy’s friends exclaims, running forward. On instinct, Peter swings around and punches him in the face. As he stumbles back, his heart sinks. He’s not supposed to know how to do that. Only Spider-Man. He can’t fight back any more than he already has. So when the guy with the broken nose gets to his feet, it only takes one look for Peter to know he’s utterly screwed.

“You wanna play, punk?” He snarls, and Peter winces when one hand threads in his hair, yanking him back. The thugs drag the struggling kid further into the alley, away from any possible help. Once a van stands between them and the street, buff arms grab Peter’s torso to hold him still. A boot connects with Peter’s crotch, and he cries out. He tries to double over in pain, but he’s held up for a punch to the face.

Peter feels the rings on the brute’s hand break skin on his face, and he tries to get out, but the grip on his torso turns to a chokehold. A brutal blow lands on his stomach, and Peter gasps out whatever air he was keeping in. As his vision blurs out, the grip on his neck leaves and he falls to the ground.

“You’re not getting off that easy,” the thug with the broken nose snarls. Peter yelps when a kick to the ribs forces him to onto his side, and then it begins. 

The blows rain down endlessly, and Peter doesn’t know what to do. He’s drowning in pain, and any direction he moves in just has more pain waiting for him. He can’t escape as he’s surrounded by kicks and punches in the face, the stomach, the spine, the legs, and cries of pain fade into quiet whimpers and groans when the attacks are unrelenting. Peter curls up into a ball, clutching at any semblance of self preservation, and that’s how it stops.

Peter opens his eyes and the guys have vanished, as well as his phone and wallet. He grits his teeth. Damn. He should probably be concerned about how easily he brushes the beating off, but he supposed he’s just used to it as Spider-Man. He just moves on with his life. Their food will get cold if he doesn’t hurry, and he knows they paid in advance, so he can still get it.

Peter gets up, and that’s when he becomes aware of how much everything hurts. Every inch of his body aches with every movement, but his mind zips to May. He doesn’t want her to worry. So he presses on.

“Hey Mr.Li. How are you doing?” Peter greets as he walks in. The man’s eyes go wide.

“Peter?! Are you okay?” His hand drifts towards his phone to call an ambulance, but the teenager shakes his head.

“I’m okay. Don’t worry about it,” Peter drags a grimace onto his face. “Our order’s ready, right?”

“Uh… yeah. But Peter, your aunt came through here looking for you an hour ago,” Mr.Li says, and Peter’s mouth goes dry. Did he pass out?! He thought the guys just left him.

“What time is it?”

“It’s 10:12,” Mr.Li gestures to the clock. Peter feels a pang of guilt hit himself, and he thinks he’s going to be sick. He’s been out for over two hours. “Peter, let me call someone to pick you up. You look like-“

“I’m good. I can walk back,” Peter assures. He assumes he looks a little roughed up, and his head pounds, but he can manage, and he doesn’t want May to worry more. He reaches for the takeout bag, which Mr.Li reluctantly passes to him.

“Have your aunt call me when you get home, okay?” Mr.Li frowns. Peter nods and slips his wrist through the loops of the bag to carry it before heading home. The walk feels longer than usual, but he finally arrives at the apartment.

“May?” Peter calls when he opens the door. He hears running footsteps, but May’s relief morphs into horror when she sees him. Her hand flies to her mouth.

“Oh my god,” She rushes towards him and takes the bag. “What happened?”

“Just had a little tustle,” Peter shrugs. He’s confused. Does he look that bad?

“Little?!” May grabs his forearm to lead him into the living room, and Peter hisses in pain. May frowns, but he follows her and catches a glimpse of himself in the entryway mirror.

“Oh,” Peter mumbles. His face has several cuts, and swelling bruises are coated with a layer of dirt. His eyes are bloodshot, and some of his hair sticks to his head.

“Sit down,” May orders. Peter lets his weight drop into the couch and instantly regrets it. As soon as his body touches the fabric, his skin stings painfully, and Peter yelps. He springs back up, not wanting to sit on any bruises.

“Peter?!” May asks, and Peter tries to wave her off.

“I’m okay... Just hurts to sit down,” Peter mumbles. May radiates concern, but she tries to downplay to take care of Peter. It’s worrying her how unconcerned he is.

“Let’s find a healthy spot then, okay? Maybe your side?” May coos. Peter nods, but the ache is all over, so he won’t be able to tell until he takes his shirt off, so he does. May nearly cries when she sees his torso. Just about every inch of him is covered in black and blue, and he looks in pain from just standing. Her mind races as she tries to think of what to do.

“Sweetie, you need to lay down.”

“That hurt.”

“I know. We’ll go slow, okay?” She eases him down onto the couch, and his breath catches in his throat as he makes contact, and his back throbs, but he manages to stay down. May mumbles something and hurries to the kitchen. She knows how to handle one bruise, but they’re everywhere. What the hell happened to him? May returns with a bottle of water, ibuprofen, and a bottle of aloe vera.

“The meds don’t work,” Peter reminds May, but she shakes her head.

“Take several then. You need to take  _ something _ ,” She insists. Peter knows it’s futile to argue with her, so he takes a few. He doesn’t want May to freak out- it’ll freak him out in turn. The bottle snaps open, but when the cool gel hits his stomach, Peter flinches.

“Ow! Stop!” Peter tries to escape it, but the movement jostles his back, and that burns too. Tears spring to his eyes, and May quickly grabs his hand.

“It’s going to help you heal faster,” She insists. Her heart breaks as they spread it over the sea of bruises. Peter’s trying to keep still, but he’s whimpering and his stomach rises and falls rapidly.

“May,” He mewls, grabbing onto her shoulder. She ignores the tight squeeze he gives when the medicine continues to hurt him.

“Who did this to you?” May demands. Peter shakes his head.

‘I dunno. Just some guys.” The answer isn’t good enough for her, he knows, but she lets it go. 10 minutes later, Peter’s covered in packs of frozen vegetables at May’s insistence, and she throws a soft blanket over him to keep him warm. Peter tries to get comfortable, but he can’t find any position that doesn’t throb. He hates it.

“Can we have our chinese food now?” Peter groans. May stares at him in shock, noting that they’ll have to have a conversation about his nonchalance about being beaten within an inch of his life tomorrow, but she gets the food, and the two eat in utter silence.


	11. Hypothermia (Peter Parker)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god. When I saw the prompt, I immediately thought of a scene from Edge of Winter in which Tom Holland's character falls into a frozen lake (click here for whump: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iTWOHRrsHu0), and I've been so ready to write this chapter to expand on it.

Tony and Steve are chatting, but Tony’s got an eye on Peter. They’re on a trip in the mountains, which for Peter, is a radical change. Something Tony learned early on in their relationship is that the Parkers’ money situation meant vacations were few and far between, so he’s been trying to get the kid out to see the world whenever he could.

However, this isn’t really what he had in mind. Peter insists on playing on the frozen lake. Tony objected, but the kid was so excited that Tony didn’t have the heart to make him stop. The ice seems thick enough, so Tony just keeps a close watch on the boy as he slides around in thick socks, but Peter’s branching farther and farther away.

Steve’s trying to tell a story and tells Tony to look as he maps it out on his hand. Tony does, but when he looks back to the lake a minute later, he doesn’t see Peter.

“Steve,” Tony cuts him off, and he’s on his feet. His voice is as cold with unhinged fear as the ice itself. “Where’d he go?”

“Oh god. Come on!” Steve sprints towards the edge of the lake and steps out. “Where was he last?”

“That way,” Tony points, and the two take off, but as they get closer, Tony hears a crack under his feet and stops. “Steve, the ice’s not thick enough!”

“Get on your knees and crawl,” Steve orders, dropping to his own. They work their way closer to where Peter disappeared, and Tony’s heart pounds as he sees shattered ice in dark water without any sign of life.

“Peter?!” Tony calls. He starts to take off his jacket and jump in, but Steve stops him.

“Tony, no. You’re not enhanced. I’ll get him,” Steve takes a deep breath and slips into the water. Tony holds his breath. He can’t lose his kid. Not like this. He shouldn’t have ever let him go out on the ice.

After a few moments that take an eternity, Steve bursts to the surface, clutching Peter to his chest. Tony scrambles to help get them out, and when he feels his cold Steve’s hand is after a few seconds underwater, he’s almost afraid to touch Peter. He’s not moving.

“We need to get off the ice,” Steve says through chattering teeth. He grabs Peter and they get off of the lake as quickly and safely as possible, but Peter doesn’t wake up, even when they lay him in the snow on the shoreline and Tony tries to shake him awake.

“Pete, talk to me,” Tony pleads. No response. He frantically pulls down the boy’s collar and checks for a pulse. It’s weak, and there’s no fog coming from around Peter’s mouth like there should be. “He’s not breathing. Steve! He’s not-”

Steve immediately starts CPR, and all Tony can do is hold Peter’s icy hand and wait. He can’t die. After a minute, the kid finally sputters and coughs up water. He wheezes once more, then he shuts his eyes again.

“Peter?!” Tony calls. He taps the kid’s face and gets a scrunch in response, and although Tony can see his breath now, he doesn’t wake up.

“We need to get him inside,” Steve says. He wedges his arms under Peter and picks him up as if he weighs nothing. They sprint back to the cabin and set Peter down in front of the fireplace.

“He needs something dry,” Tony falls to his knees next to the kid and starts peeling the wet clothes off of him, but they’re so cold that they’re nearly frozen. Steve runs into Peter’s room and comes back with sweatpants, a long-sleeved shirt, and a sweatshirt, and Tony tries to ignore how ghostly pale the boy’s skin is as they redress him. Once he’s in dry clothes, Tony grabs a stack of blankets from a closet, and the jostling of the man literally cocooning Peter gets him to stir a little. He coughs awake, his body violently trying to force out whatever water is still there.

“Tony?” Peter slurs. His voice is barely audible, but it’s there. Tony feels a wave of relief at consciousness and brushes wet curls out of his face.

“Hey, Pete. We gotta warm you up,” Tony says. Peter’s breathing is ragged, and he moans and tries to scoot closer to Tony, but his muscles feel weak and refuse to function properly. The man picks up the signals and scoops the boy into his arms, cradling him against his chest. Peter shivers violently.

“Steve, can you-“ Tony cuts himself off when he sees that Steve’s already got an armful of wood. He nods his thanks as Steve gets a fire going. As the flames begin to pick up, the man squats down on Peter’s other side.

“Peter, can you feel your fingers and toes alright? Or can you feel everything?” Steve asks. Peter nods an affirmative, but it causes cold water to drip on his cheek, and he buries his face into Tony’s warm chest. A particularly strong shiver runs down his spine, and a whine escapes his cracked lips. Tony frowns worriedly and pulls him closer.

“You want some of that hot chocolate we got?” Tony coos. Peter nods again, coughing into his chest. His body screams for any semblance of heat, but he feels like all the warmth in the world is gone, except for Tony. Tony’s warm.

“I’m cold,” He whimpers. “Help.” Tony’s heart plummets, and he finds himself angry for a moment. Not at Peter, but at the world. He has all the resources in the world, but he’s at a loss for how to help his kid warm up. Even if he had to give up everything, he would in an instant to make Peter feel better. He just can’t think of much else they can do, and he hates it.

“I’m sorry,” Tony whispers. He pulls another blanket around both of them this time and scoots closer to the fire, desperately hoping to transfer what little heat he has.

When Steve comes back with a mug, Tony wedges Peter’s hands out of the lasagna of blankets. Peter bites his lip as his fingers leave the nest, but Tony wraps his hands around the mug to heat them up. His hands still shake, so Tony has to help him bring the mug to his lips for a careful sip. Peter mewls as the warm, smooth drink slides down his throat, giving his lungs the warmth they need.

“Drink as much as you can, Bud,” Tony encourages. It takes 10 painstakingly long minutes, but Peter finishes the whole mug. He’s still shivering, but his breathing is starting to settle into some semblance of a pattern. Tony whispers quiet praise into his son’s ear as he sets the drink aside.

Peter’s only response is a noise in the back of his throat, followed by a restrained cough. Now that he’s warming up, tears are able to stream freely from his eyes, and sniffles begin to come incrementally. “‘M still cold.”

“I know. Here,” Tony adjusts them, lying the teenager on the carpet, and when Peter instinctively balls up, Tony curls around him.

“Give me your hands,” Tony murmurs. Peter shifts in the blanket, and Tony wraps his large, warm hands around Peter’s much smaller, colder ones, rubbing them between his fingers. “Better?”

“Mmhmm,” Peter hums. Everything that’s happened drags his body down with fatigue, and he nestles closer, finally relaxing enough to let the fuzzy blankets, the soft crackling of the warm fire, and the steady rise and fall of Tony’s chest lull him to sleep.


	12. Electrocution (Peter Parker)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I know Riddler is a DC villain, but I had this idea, and he fit the bill.

In hindsight, it was a pretty dumb move. When one sees a giant cage, it’s not the best solution in the world to walk in and “check it out.” This is a pretty freaking fantastic example of having spider-sense and not common sense, Peter thinks. Now, he’s now trapped in this room-sized steel grid with a host of other things. There’s different colored buttons, a couple levers, and a rope hanging down from the top of the cage. **  
**

“Well, well, well,” A voice says. “Looks like I’ve got a spider stuck in my web.” Spider-Man turns to see a snide man donning a bright green suit, and Peter can feel the conceit rolling off of the man in waves.

“That’s not how it works. I catch you in my web,” Peter chides. The man walks closer to the wall of the cage and stares him down from behind a domino mask.

“Only if you can get out of there,” He challenges. Spider-Man knows he can literally bend the steel out of the way, so he closes the distance between them and grabs the bars. He yelps as the metal shocks him, sending painful vibrations up his arms and into his body. Spider-Man manages to tear himself away and falls backward, his butt landing on the metal ground.

“What-?” He gasps. The man just smiles. “Who the hell are you?”

“You don’t already know? Why, I’m insulted!” He puts his hand to his chest in mock surprise and hurt. Peter grits his teeth and pushes himself to his feet. Complementing the green suit is a purple tie with question marks on it, and the guy carried a golden, question-marked shaped cane.

“You’re the Questioner. You tell me,” Peter tries. The man chuckles.

“I appreciate the effort. I’m the Riddler, and you, my adolescent, have some riddles of your own to solve,” Riddler teases. Peter looks around the cage chest tightening. He’s never liked small spaces, and since the Vulture dropped a building on him, confinement triggers his anxiety terribly. He needs to get out of here sooner than later.

“What’s the riddle?”’

“Ever heard of a Skinner’s box?” The Riddler asks. Peter furrows his brow.

“Like the psychology thing?”

“Exactly. Look at you being a smart cookie,” He claps his hands together excitedly, going up on his toes, and the sadistic glee unnerves Peter. “Find the right sequence of actions, and I’ll let you out. Make a wrong move and… well… you know...”

“I get shocked,” Peter finishes, and his mouth moves into a grim line. The only way to do this might be trial and error, and that could take forever. “What if I don’t play along?”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Spider-Man feels a shock come up through his feet and springs up into the air in an attempt to avoid the pain. Peter lands roughly on the ground.

“30 seconds apart. On _average_ ,” Riddler adds. At that admission, Peter knows he needs to move. He walks over to the red, blue, and green buttons, watching the Ridder’s face avidly for any hints, but his poker face is unmoving as Peter reaches for one. He’s afraid to touch it, but he counts to three and forces himself to push the red button.

His muscles contract painfully for a second that feels like a minute, and he barely stays on his feet. That’s not it. Peter tries again, this time with the blue button, but he gets shocked again. Keeping with the pattern, green’s not right either. On the last shock, the pain in his body takes over, and Peter falls to his knees.

“What the heck?!” He glares at the Riddler, clutching his stomach. All he gets is a look that makes his blood run cold.

“Do keep trying.”

“Why?!” He demands. The Riddler shrugs.

“I’m curious. You’re an interesting test subject, Spider-Boy. Don’t you ever wonder how spiders, humans, and you- a hybrid- react to the same operant conditioning?” He muses. Peter feels disgusting as the man watches him like an animal, and due to his lack of movement, shocks him again. Peter cries out in pain.

When it stops, he stares at the shaking image of his hands against the metal. He won’t survive if he goes through shaping for every successive step. Maybe the ceiling of the cage isn’t electrified and he can get out through those bars. Before the Riddler can shock him again, Peter shoots off a web and zips to the roof of the cage. The second he makes contact, electricity flows through his entire body, and once he finally pries his fingers away from the metal, Peter free-falls to the ground of the cage. His back slams into the ground, forcing all remaining air from his lungs.

“Play the game, Peter,” the Riddler snarls. Peter’s barely returning breath hitches at the use of his real name.

“How-?” He rasps.

“I’m one of the smartest men in this city. Even with your genius-level IQ, you can’t outsmart me, Parker. Now Get. Up,” The man orders. Peter hates himself for it, but he obeys. He can’t take much more shocking.

He grabs a lever, and to his relief, nothing happens when he pulls it. He tries pulling it again and grunts as he’s shocked again. He grabs the lever to pull himself out of contact with the ground and holds himself up. He assumes it’s been long enough, but when he drops down, the voltage is even stronger, and his muscles seize up. He collapses, writhing.

“That’s cheating,” Riddler says after the boy lies on the ground, twitching. Peter hears a faint click as Riddler adjusts the voltage back to normal for the next shock. He can’t use any shortcuts.

So Peter tries and tries again, but more than a dozen attempts later, all he knows is that the first steps are the left lever, red button, and hanging rope, in that order. His muscles are getting weaker with each shock, and every movement burns. After another failed attempt, Peter collapses.

“Stop! I can’t!” He pleads. He’s going to die. Unless this is the last step, which it probably isn’t, he won’t survive. The Riddler considers him.

“You can, you just haven't yet,” He sneers. Peter rubs at his chest, as if it’ll help him get a grip on his erratic heartbeat.

“I’ll die!” Spider-Man protests, and he whimpers when his inaction causes another shock.

“Too bad,” Riddler says. “Survival of the fittest, right?” Peter’s heart sinks, and his limbs move of their own accord with excess electricity. He tries to get up, but another shock sends him back down. It feels like barely any time at all before the next jolt causes him to keen, arching his back. They just keep coming.

Peter whimpers and flinches with each electrocution, but he’s out of strength. His muscles contract violently as the voltage increases, and his body writhes of it’s own accord. Someone’s screeching, but it takes minutes before Peter realizes that the dastardly sound is him. He just lays there, waiting for death or unconsciousness to come, and his mind almost feels a sense of relief as he fades out. For how good his day started, the ending was certainly a shock.


	13. "Stay." (Peter Parker & Tony Stark)

“I can do it,” Tony pipes up.

“NO!” Peter shrieks, and Tony actually flinches at the response. The other Avengers avert their gaze from the pair. Each holds their own objection, especially Steve, Rhodey, and Natasha, but they can’t compete with the now unmasked kid staring at his mentor in horror. Tony crosses the distance between them, putting his hands on his Spider-kid’s shoulders.

“Peter, I have to-“

“No! Find another way,” Peter demands. He brings his hands up to Tony’s wrists and squeezes, signaling that he’s not going to let go easily. He’ll hold Tony here from sheer force if he has to. Tony frowns and glances behind them to the brewing chaos. Thanos is going to win if he doesn’t do this.

“We don’t have-“ Tony quickly shifts them to the side to avoid an oncoming attack. It occurs to him that Peter probably saw it coming with his Spider-sense, but the boy hadn’t moved until Tony pulled him to the side; he’s still trying to protect Tony. “We don’t have time.”

“You’ll  _ die _ ,” Peter protests, and his eyes are already brimming with tears. Tony bites his lip. He probably will. No, he definitely will. But if he doesn’t do this, Thanos is going to wipe out half of the universe again, or maybe even all of it.

“I know, Pete. I might. But I have to do this. To protect you and everyone else,” Tony explains. He knows Peter understands, but the kid doesn’t want to accept it.

“ _ Please _ . Mr.Stark! I just got you back, and I- I can’t..,” Peter trails off, quivering. Over a year in the soul stone, and the people who dusted in the snap just returned yesterday. And today, Thanos attacked Earth to take back the stones and destroy the planet, including the Avengers.

“You won’t lose me, kid. I’ll always be here,” He places a hand on Spider-Man’s chest, but he shakes his head violently.

“No! Mr.S- Tony. Stay. Please!” Peter bats his hand to the side and moves forward. The force with which he clutches onto Tony would be painful if not for the Iron Man armor. Tony shudders with raw emotion and wraps his arm around his kid, running a gloved hand through the brown hair.

“I’m sorry,” Tony whispers, and before Peter can stop him, he’s pulling away. With a loud whine, Spider-Man tries to follow, but a new pair of arms wraps around him.

“No! Tony!” Peter screams, struggling in the grip. The arms hold steady, even as he thrashes wildly. “Find someone else!”

“It has to be him. No one else can fly fast enough to get through, and only he knows the tech well enough to activate the reaction,” Steve justifies, but Peter can hear the pain in his voice too.

With a surge of strength, Spider-Man gets an arm free and shoots his web at Iron Man’s retreating back. Tony stops short as the line goes taut. Peter’s betrayed eyes bore into him, and his fingers grip the web so tightly he thinks they might break.

“Stay! Tony, please! Don’t do this!” He won’t lose another father. Tony softens, and the pain in his eyes is paramount as he turns around. He forces a reassuring smile to his face.

“I love you,” Tony puts his repulsor to the webbing, burning through it. Peter feels his heart snap with the rope, and even though Tony can hear Peter screaming behind him, he doesn’t stop. He knows if he looks back, he really will stay, and Thanos will separate them anyway. He needs to do this. There’s no other way.

“Peter, dont look,” Natasha murmurs as Tony’s image shrinks. She stands in his line of sight, and when he tries to see past her, all he sees is Iron Man’s figure getting smaller and smaller. Steve spins him around in his grasp, one hand holding the kid to him while the other cradles Peter’s head against his chest.

When Peter hears the explosion, he flinches. The world is eerily silent for a moment, and then Peter lets out a sob.“M-Mr.R-Rogers?”

“He’s gone, kid,” Steve murmurs. Peter slumps, grabbing onto Steve for support as his entire body shakes. His legs give out then, and Captain America helps lower him to the ground, hugging the child tightly. Tony left. He  _ didn’t _ stay.


	14. Torture (Peter Parker)

A loud bang resonates around the room when Spider-Man’s back hits the table. He tries to wrench away, but there’s a man on each arm, and he doesn’t have the leverage he needs as they pull his arms up. The rack is tilted slightly, and he tries to push himself up the table to bend his arms and swing his lower body off the table, but another person grabs his hips and yanks him back down.

His wrists are shoved into thick metal cuffs, and he can’t get his arms out before they snap shut. Someone grabs his kicking legs, pulling those down and into ankle restraints. They back away now, watching Peter struggle and confirm their suspicions that he can’t escape. He’s still writhing when a soft, calming voice resonates around the room.

“It’s okay, Peter. No one’s hurting you right now,” The voice says. Peter stills and swallows. They know who he is. How did they find out?! He can’t move at all in the restraints, but he can still feel the cold metal through his suit, and he hears heavy footsteps coming closer.

“Why am I here?” Spider-Man demands of the burly brute.

“We’re giving you a spa treatment. Free of charge.” That’s the only explanation he gets before a pair of hands grabs his head, wrestling a blindfold down his head and over his mask. They shift the table so it’s flat again. Peter lurches his head, but it’s grabbed and pulled back. The hands stay there, and he hears a quiet stir.

Peter gasps in shock when cold water hits his face, soaking through the mask within seconds. His gag reflex activates, and he’s drowning. He can’t breathe, but he’s not passing out, either. Peter heaves, arching his back, and his hips erupt in pain when they’re shoved flush with the table again. It’s too much input, and Peter feels like he’s gonna pa-

It stops, and Peter can barely breathe through the mask, but at least he can. He coughs, but there’s no where for it to go.

“Restraints aren’t tight enough. He can still shift,” Spider-Man hears a voice to his right say.

“I got it.” There’s a horrible cranking sound before Peter’s shoulders burn. It continues and Peter realizes with horror that they’re pulling him apart, stretching his limbs to the max. He struggles only slightly before he finds the pain in his shoulders and hips increasing. He’s held taut against the table now, and he really can’t move anymore. It’s like he’s stretching, but it’s too much, and he can’t stop.

Then the water is back, and every time he moves, there’s just more and more pain. But he can’t stop because his muscles just move reflexively, of their own accord. They stop again seconds before he passes out, and Peter realizes that they won’t  _ let _ him. Whoever these people are, they’re too good. They keep him blindfolded ass they move around, and all Peter catches is something about stones and prongs.

“What do you waAHH,” Peter lets out a short cry as a burst of heat hits his stomach. It  _ burns _ . He tries to escape it, but he’s strung up too tightly, so he just whimpers as the hot stone sears his skin. More stones come. Two are on his chest, another one on his stomach, and one more on his pelvis. He’s sweating heavily, his chest rises and falls rapidly. They add one more. This one goes on the soft part of his neck, pressing down on his jugular notch.

The jugular stone impedes his airways, making it harder to breathe, and what little oxygen he has left is swept away by the return of the hose. Peter’s lungs burn, and when the water stops, he finds himself angry. Why won’t they just let him pass out?! Everything hurts. He  _ wants _ it. He hears the water running again and flinches instinctively.

“What do you want?!” He cries.

“We already told you.” Peter sobs in response. They must want  _ something _ . A hand touches his shoulder and Peter lurches away with a loud pop. His arm is dislocated. He whines and slams the back of his head into the table. To his relief, the water stops.

“Aw,” A voice says in mock sympathy. “Do you need a massage?” Rough hands collide with his shoulder, and Peter whimpers. The stones are taken away, only to be replaced by hands tapping him and intensifying into slaps and punches.

It goes on forever, the hits coming without relent, and Peter doesn’t even make noise anymore. He doesn’t have the energy. He just lays there and takes it. At some point, the hits slow, leaving the teenager throbbing in pain.

“Pleasure doing business with you. Do come again,” A voice sneers. Peter shudders as a hand runs down his stomach. He hears footsteps moving around him and assumes they’re going to lessen the strain on his limbs, but they don’t. Instead, all the footsteps retreat until it’s Peter alone in the room, blindfolded and sopping wet with water and sweat.


	15. Manhandling (Peter Parker)

“Get off!” Peter hollars as they shove him down the extremely narrow hallway. His hands are cuffed behind his back, but that sure as hell isn’t stopping him. He lurches to the right, using his shoulder to slam one of the bad guys into the wall. He grunts, and Spider-Man is promptly pulled backward, but leans into it, causing that attacker to hit the left wall now. However, the man doesn’t let go, pinning his arms to his sides tightly.

“Stop struggling,” Another kidnapper grunts with annoyance and sends a fist into the teenager’s stomach. Peter gasps, and the kidnapper stands in front of him with a syringe.

“No!” Spider-Man headbutts him, the syringe shatters on the ground. The grip from behind on his torso is crushing, so he lifts his feet and uses both to kick the man in front of him back. He whips his head back this time, hitting his captor in the nose and causing the grip to loosen. Peter squirms out of it and tries to run, but he’s tackled from behind. Without hands to catch him, Spider-Man hits the ground with full impact, and there’s a weight on his back pinning him down.

“Stop struggling, brat!” A voice snarls. Spider-Man tries to push up, but someone grabs his head and slams it into the ground. The hit stuns him, and while his head tries to clear up, he feels the weight getting off of him and arms looping between his elbows and body. He’s pulled roughly to his feet, and the guy makes the mistake of thinking he’s adequately restrained. Spider-Man wrenches to the side, turning them, and he uses his feet to run up the wall, slipping up and out of the grip. He manages to flip over the man’s head and lands behind him. The triumph only lasts for a moment before he’s grabbed and wrestled against the wall again.

“You’re only make this harder on yourself,” Someone hisses. They’ve regrouped, and multiple pairs of arms grab him again- too many to fight off.

“Grab his legs, and we’ll carry him.” They lift Peter off the ground, robbing him of any leverage, and the five kidnappers carry him the rest of the way down the hall. Peter still fights them, but he’s having little effect now. He just doesn’t know what they’ll do to him when he stops. They burst into a dark room, and they drop Peter to the ground, but follow him down, firmly pinning down every limb.

“Got another shot?” Someone asks. Spider-Man’s eyes widen, and he renews his struggles, writhing beneath the pile of bodies restraining him.

“Yeah.” A knee lands between his shoulder blades, and a hand grips his head, ripping off the mask. The man drives his cheek into the ground.

“Can you find a vein?” The man holding his head asks. Peter grits his teeth and tries to thrash his head, but the grip in his hair just tightens.

“Yeah, I see one,” The new arrival kneels in front of the boy and grabs his chin, forcing it upwards. If he wasn’t losing, Spider-Man would be proud of the fact that it takes the combined force of the six men to keep him still, but he is losing. He feels the pinch in his neck, and the pressure of a liquid forcing its way into his bloodstream. Peter tries again to throw them off, but his strength is waning. He can’t move his muscles anymore, and one by one, the men on top of him get off. He’s rolled onto his back now, and the kid doesn’t even get a glance of the ceiling before he passes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short but sweet. didn't have too much to say on this one.


	16. Bedridden (Tony Stark)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whumptober's whump is starting to get depressing, so I tried to end this one on a happier note. Enjoy <3

Tony bolts upright, but hands catch his shoulders. He instinctively swings out, but Steve catches his fist.

“Tony! Tony, it’s us,” Steve assures. He waits patiently for the recognition to settle in Tony’s eyes.

“Oh,” Tony lets himself be eased back against the pillows. He’s in the medical bay of the compound, surrounded by the familiar view of the room he designed to give the best care to the Avengers. He just hadn’t really imagined himself in it as a patient. “What happened?”

“We got you out,” Steve rubs the back of his neck. “You were out delirious when we found you. Don’t you remember any of it?”

Tony bites his lip. He doesn’t. He only remembers the torture. They wanted to know why he was so smart so they could replicate it. They experimented on him in a setting not unlike this one, and it went on so long he lost track of the days.

“How long?”

“You’ve been out since yesterday morning,” Steve answers, and both of them know it’s not what Tony’s looking for.

“No. How long was I gone?” Tony insists. Steve hesitates.

“17 days.”

“Jesus,” Tony’s breath hitches in his throat. “I gotta- I gotta go.” It’s been more than two weeks. He must have so many things piled up to do, many of which are probably pretty important.

“Tony, no. You need to stay in bed,” Steve protests as Tony tries to get up. His hands are on his shoulders again, and Tony tries to bat Cap away, but the mortal stands no chance against an enhanced soldier, and Steve manages to keep him in bed.

“Why?” Tony glares at him.

“Um,” Steve frowns. He didn’t understand all the medical mumbo jumbo earlier. “Strange, Bruce, and Helen said so. Look, if you need something, I can get it for you. Are you hungry or do you-“

“No,” Tony says, already feeling sick at the mere idea of food. He’d been force-fed too many times in the last couple weeks. Steve looks a little taken aback, but he doesn’t say anything.

Tony’s antsy, itching to get up. He’s been trapped lying down for weeks, and the anxiety clenches his chest with the burning desire to  _ move.  _ But he knows Steve will stop him. So he’ll just wait for him to leave. However, seeing that their conversation is done for the time being, Steve grabs a book from a side table and relaxes on the bed next to Tony’s. It’s a Harry Potter book, no doubt Peter’s influence.

As Tony looks around the med bay, he gets the feeling that he’s not allowed to be left alone. There’s some arrows that look in the middle of being made on a table, Bruce’s tablet, and a book so old and thick it has to be Stephen’s. They must be taking shifts watching him. He lays back, trying to fall asleep, but he’s too anxious. An hour of silence, and he’s about to scream.

“Steve… could you- could you actually get me some soup?” Tony asks. Steve shifts immediately.

“Yeah, I can do that,” He puts his bookmark in and gets up. “I just put it in the microwave, right?”

“Actually, no. Last I checked, we’re out of the canned stuff. But there should be broth and noodles in the cabinet, and chicken in the fridge,” Tony explains. Steve nods slowly.

“It might take me a bit.”

“That’s okay. I’m good here,” Tony lies, knowing damn well he’s getting up the minute he’s gone. He’s lucky Cap is so gullible. Steve sucks at cooking, so when he leaves the room, Tony knows he’ll be occupied for a while.

“Finally,” Tony mumbles. He carefully pulls the IV out of his arm and tosses it to the side. His fingers fumble for the latch to the sides of the hospital bed, and with some effort, he gets it down. He’s clumsier than he remembers.

When his feet touch the ground, Tony becomes aware of just how weak he is. His legs feel like jelly as he tries to stand, and the world spins around him. He feels like he’s going to be sick, but he’ll also get sick if he stays here any longer. It reminds him too much of the rooms where they tortured him. He takes a shaky step towards the door. Then another. And another. If he can just get to the lab…

He grabs onto the other medical beds as he passes by them, and finally,  _ finally _ , gets halfway across the room. Even with black spots looming threateningly at the edge of his vision, he keeps pushing forward. His fingers clutch a stainless steel table with medical supplies, but it’s not tight enough. His hand slips, sending supplies clattering, and Tony himself crumples.

Tony grunts as the fall aggravates the pain in his stomach and back again. He’s tired now, expending all that energy to get here. Tony rolls into his back and shuts his eyes. A nap sounds nice.

* * *

Voices come in and out now, but Tony’s too lazy to open his eyes.

“Tony!”

“Get Stephen from-.”

“Why did you let-“

“-to make soup.”

“-have to get him-.”

Tony feels hands on him and then he’s out again.

* * *

Tony wakes up in bed and grumbles indignantly. He went through all that effort to get to the door, and they just put him right back where he was. He goes to pull the IV out again and freezes. Something’s stopping him. He looks down to see the thick leather cuffs restraining him to the bed, and his stomach drops. They got him back again.

He yanks at the leather cuffs, but they won’t break. He can’t be trapped again. He can’t do this anymore. As Tony’s panic rises, the vital alarms blare, ringing in his head. It’s too much noise. He writhes painfully, trying to get out.

“Tony?!” Bruce calls, but it barely breaks through the fog.

“Is he seizing?” Steve asks, right on Bruce’s heels. Bruce gets to Tony and looks into his wild, dilated eyes.

“No. He’s panicking,” Bruce puts a hand on Tony’s shoulder, but the man flinches, so he pulls away. “Tony. Tony, listen to me.” Tony’s eyes focus on Bruce, but he doesn’t calm down.

“Why am I tied up?!” Tony demands, and the way his neck veins pop reminds Steve too much of Bruce’s hulking out.

“You kept trying to get up,” Bruce explains, to which Tony throws himself against the restraints. Bruce takes a nervous step backwards. As much as he loves Tony, it’s hard to see him like this.

“Hey!” Stephen warns, joining them in the room. He’s got a lot more experience here, so Bruce quickly switches places with him. “If you think I’ll hesitate to sedate you, you’re dead wrong.”

“Let me out,” Tony insists. He glares lasers through Stephen, but the man seems unfazed. He just grabs the morphine dial and sends Tony a pointed look. Tony feels bile rise in his throat and stills immediately.

“Don’t you dare. I’ll stop,” Tony grits his teeth. Even as his muscles burn with the desire to run, he holds them locked firmly in place, trying to prove a point.  “Just untie me and I won’t go anywhere, promise.”

The room is silent for a moment as the three caregivers exchange glances. Bruce bites his lip.

“I’m sorry tony, we can’t trust you,” Bruce quickly turns away so he doesn’t have to face the betrayal in Tony’s eyes and the way his lips part with anxiety.

“No. You can’t leave me like this!” Tony protests. He’s as trapped now as he was before they rescued him. Who knows. They might torture him next. Tony feels guilty the second the thought hits his mind. They wouldn’t ever hurt him, right? No. Steve did in Siberia. He’s still mad about that.

“It’s for your own good,” Stephen says, pulling Tony back on topic. The billionaire doesn’t know whether to scream or beg for release, so he just sits there in silence, fidgeting in the feeble hope that he’ll get out, and he watches as the three traitors leave him behind.

* * *

When Stephen comes in to give Tony food, he’s promptly chased out by a bout of yelling on Tony’s part. Tony doesn’t snarl immediately when they send in Clint and Natasha, but he loses it when they won’t uncuff him to eat.

“This is ridiculous! What are you going to spoonfeed me?!” Tony hisses.

“That’s the plan, Stan,” Clint says casually. Tony clenches his jaw. This is humiliating.

“Out. Now,” Tony orders. Natasha sees his left arm twitching in the way it does when he’s really anxious, and she watches him swallow as if it’s the hardest thing in the world. He’s still afraid from whatever hell those kidnappers put him through, and being tied up is just making it worse. She sets a hand on his shoulder to comfort him, but he just flinches and leans away as best he can.

“Leave,” Tony insists. Natasha frowns but nods at Clint. As they walk out, he barely hears Clint whispering to Natasha.

“That’s it. We’re getting the secret weapon.” Tony’s heart skips a beat. Secret weapon?! What the hell did that mean? He spends the next two hours imagining all the horrible pain they could inflict on him with this weapon, and finally, the door opens again. He tenses, steeling himself for the worst case scenario and turning his head away from the door pointedly.

“Call me if you need anything, ‘kay?” Bruce says quietly.

“‘Kay,” Peter says, and Tony’s head whips to the other side at the sound of his kid’s voice. Peter’s standing nervously by the door, giving Mr.Stark a shy smile. The next thing he knows, Peter’s practically teleported next to him, and his arms are hugging him so tightly he thinks the kid might break his back.

“You okay there, kid?” Tony forces his casual facade back to the surface.

“I was so worried,” Peter mumbles into his chest, and Tony softens. He feels Peter quiver against his chest, and it’s just once, but it happens, and he wants more than anything to be able to hug the kid, but he still can’t move.

“It’s okay. I’m here now,” Tony assures. Peter pulls away from him, wiping his eyes before any tears fall out. He’d been panicking the whole time Tony was gone, and he nearly cried from sheer excitement when Natasha called to say she was picking him up.

“Scoot,” Peter orders. Tony moves as far to the left as he can (which isn’t much) as Peter crawls onto the bed and squeezes in between Tony and the bedrail. As the teenager curls up into him, it slowly dawns on Tony that this was their secret weapon. He should be mad, knowing that they were using Peter to keep him tame, but at this point, with the warm body forcibly cuddling him, he can’t bring himself to care.


	17. Drugged (Dick Grayson)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the team goes undercover at a Gotham nightclub, Dick gets recognized as the ward of Bruce Wayne (aka a very good ransom opportunity), and things go awry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are with another DC chapter :)

_ “Superboy. You hearing anything?” _ Aqualad asks over the comms. Connor shakes his head, then remembers Kaldur can't actually see him.

_ “Yes and No. I’m hearing everything. There’s too much input.” _ Superboy grumbles.

_ “Hopefully I draw one of them in,” _ Artemis chimes. They’re trying to find a trafficking ring, and she’s acting drunk off her ass right now, despite being completely sober, so they’re hoping one of the criminals tries to target her. If so, they can lead them right into a trap.

Meanwhile, Aqualad, Robin, Miss Martian, and Kid Flash are patrolling in their civies, assuming they’ll eventually stumble upon something. That said, they do have plans for if someone tries to grab Artemis, and one of them has an eye on her at all times. No one stops to think she might not be the only target.

Dick’s drinking a soda by the bar, trusting his sunglasses to hide that he’s carefully watching the VIP section. After a while, a young man crosses into his vision and sits down next to him. Dick looks at him and puts his drink down carefully. Dick knows he looks old enough to be in college now, and this guy looks to be about college age, if not a little older, so it’s not surprising he comes to talk to him.

“‘Sup man?” The dude asks. Dick shrugs.

“Same old, same old. Just checking out the scene,” Dick responds, matching his tone. The stranger nods slowly.

“What’s with the sunglasses? We’re in a nightclub. You just trying to look like a badass?”

“Oh! No… I- I just… the strobe lights both me.” Dick quickly removes them, knowing it’ll be suspicious if he doesn’t. He’s in civvies anyway, and he’s done undercover work without a mask before. The way the guy looks Dick over makes the young vigilante raise an eyebrow.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Grayson,” He purrs. Before he’s even done with the sentence, Dick feels a hand on his neck and a sharp pinch Alarms blare in Robin’s head of the use of his real name. They recognized him. It’s  _ another _ ransom for Bruce Wayne. He hates being a rich kid sometimes. He can already feel the heat spreading through his body from his neck. This isn’t asterous. Not at all.

_ “Guys, I’m compromised,” _ is all Dick gets out before the drugs make it into his bloodstream and hit him hard. If the team’s speaking to him, he can no longer hear it. He tries to stand, but everything tilts, and a firm pair of arms catches him. Arms he doesn’t want. Dick stumbles, his feet refusing to work properly as he’s walked to his doom. He ‘slips,’ hands landing and grasping hard on the edge of a table. The college kids gasp and recoil. Dick sends them pointed looks, but he can’t catch the eyes of any of the girls who would understand, and he feels arms wrapping around his torso.

“Sorry about him. My friend’s had a bit too much to drink. C’mon, Paul,” Someone says, and Dick groans as he’s wrestled away. He’s parched, and everything’s getting harder as the drugs set in. He’s barely able to process through warped senses, much less fight. They start towards an exit, and Dick tries to pull away anyway, but he’s too delirious and ends up leaning on his captor for support instead. He knows it’s wrong, but the body is oh so warm, and he just wants to sleep. Where’s the team?

_ “There’s too many bodies in here. I can’t pick him out,” _ Connor hisses.

_ “Wally, use your speed to check all around the club. I’ll check the parking lot,” _ Artemis chimes, and all signs of drunkenness are gone as she hops off the barstool and speed walks to the exit.

As they get outside, Dick starts to feel that disgusting feeling in his throat, and he drops away from his captor to vomit into a bush. When he’s done, they pull him away again. However, the vomit’s cleared his head a little, and he tries to push them away now, although it’s with little progress. They get him to a darkened car, and the man places Dick’s hands on the trunk.

"Stay here while I get the keys,” He instructs. When he’s turned around and the blurred realization of opportunity finally crawls to his brain, Dick pulls away from the hood, but trying to run turns into falling to his hands and knees on the asphalt. His entire body feels like it's buzzing.

“C’mon,” Strong arms pull him back to his feet, and Artemis walks outside just in time to see them easing Dick into the back seat of a car.

“Hey!” She shouts, breaking into a run. The two guys startle.

“Jeff, start the car!” They scramble into the front seat.

_ “I found him. In the parking lot. They’re trying to make a getaway _ ,” Artemis reports. She has to jump out of the way as the car speeds backward, trying to get out of the parking spot. No! Artemis reaches for an arrow to take out the wheel, but promptly remembers she doesn’t have her bow and quiver with her.

Luckily, Miss Martian telekinetically lifts the car off the ground, and it goes nowhere. The team make quick work of the kidnappers, and Wally reaches into the backseat, pulling Dick out and setting him down carefully on the ground.

“Dude, you with us?” Wally asks. Dick blinks rapidly, trying to decrypt what was just said to him. He decides it isn’t important, and the asphalt is warm and soothing, so he rests his head against it with a smile.

“I think they drugged him,” Artemis frowns, pulling a few syringes out of a backpack in the trunk. Wally is trying to talk to Dick, but Dick just feebly tries to push his hands away, unsure if he’s still being attacked or not.

“Is he going to be okay?” Aqualad asks, and Artemis is reminded that she’s the only other human with a normal metabolism here.

“Probably. I’m sure Batman trained him for this,” Artemis sighs. “We probably need to get some fluids in him though. Connor, can you pick him up?”

“Yeah,” Connor slides his arms under the teenager, and Dick jolts, but he lets himself be picked up. The big build offers security and heat, so he nuzzles into Connor’s chest.

“I love you,” He tells the warmth. Connor’s face twists uncomfortably, unsure how to handle the information. Was that directed at him? He thought they were just friends.

“Relax,” Artemis smirks. “He’s just drugged out.” The team gets back to the bioship, and Connor lays Dick down on the medical bed. The boy mewls when the heat leaves him, but Wally replaces Connor, grabbing an IV. He firmly grabs Dick’s arm, sliding the needle into a vein. It takes a solid few seconds for him to respond.

“Ow,” He mumbles. Wally starts to move away, but Dick’s hand gropes for him, grabbing his sleeve in a vise. Wally softens, returning to his best friend.

“Get some sleep, Dickie Bird,” Wally coos, and with the drugs working their way out now, Dick understands, and he slips his eyes closed. Just for an hour-long minute, that’s all.


	18. Hostage (MJ & Peter Parker)

Spider-Man feels pretty annoyed as he crawls along the ceiling of the museum. Why does bad stuff always happen on their school trips?! First DC, then Europe, now this? It’s just a museum, for crying out loud. And sure, it held priceless artifacts, but S T I L L.

He’d slipped away from the group as soon as he saw suspicious guy, and he’d made the right call. The rest of his classmates and museum goers where corralled in the middle of the lobby. Peter knows he’s not really trained here, so he’s just observing the 39 hostages and 12 hostage-takers until police arrive or in case something goes wrong. The crew moves around the museum, stuffing artifacts into their bags. However, the more he watches the leader of the heist group pace, the more psychotic the man seems, and Peter’s starting to think he’ll have to intervene. Karen tells him police are mobilizing, but they’re going to take a little bit.

“Are you  _ texting _ ?” The leader growls, and Sally looks up from her phone, eyes wide with fear and embarrassment.

“Um..,” She stammers. The man storms over, and other students scramble out of the way to avoid being in the madman’s path.

“How DARE YOU?” He shouts. He rips the phone from her grasp and chucks it across the lobby. She tries to pull away, but he grabs her with one hand, and the other reaches for his gun. Peter’s eyes widen. Time to go. Spider-Man drops down from the ceiling and lands in a stable crouch.

“Hey!” He shouts, and the leader immediately pivots, firing in the direction of the noise. Luckily, the spider-senses kick in, and Spider-Man shifts his shoulder back to avoid the bullet, but he’s aware now of several other guns aimed at him, and he puts his hands up. Maybe this wasn’t the best plan, but it’s all he’s got right now, and at least their focus is on him. Time to stall like crazy.

“Spider-Man,” The leader snarls.

“What’s shaking? Besides your hand?” Peter asks, immediately mentally cursing himself. Now’s not the time for jokes- he could anger the man into hurting a hostage.

“What do you want?!”

_ “Transmitting audio-visual feed to NYPD,” _ Karen chimes.

“I just want everyone to be safe. What’s your name? What do you want?” Peter keeps his tone soft and gentle, but MJ is staring at him. She knows he has no idea what he’s doing. He puts his hands splayed and in front of him, trying to motion the tension down.

“Dexter… What do you care?”

“I can help you, but I need you to trust me first.”

“Why should I?”

“I’m cooperating, aren’t I? I haven’t tried to do anything.” The man slowly lowers his gun.

“I need money.”

“Ok… why do you need it?”

“I got a family to take care of, man.” Peter nods slowly. He can work with that.

“I understand. Family’s important.” He glances to Ned and MJ, checking on them. MJ sends looks of encouragement his direction, and Peter feels a bit more at ease.

“I just… I got a little girl. I need to make sure she’s supported, but it’s so hard, man! I gotta pay for school, food, toys, ballet classes,” Dexter rambles.

“I know,” Spider-Man looks to the hostages. “These people have families too.” The man snarls.

“You only care about them!” Anger rises in his voice throughout the sentence, and Spider-Man tries to undo his mistake.

“No, no, no. I care about you. I was just… just making a comment, that’s all,” Peter stammers. Dexter runs his hands through his, beginning to pace again, and Peter’s head turns back to his classmates at the sound of a choked, fearful sob. He doesn’t have time to locate who it was before his attention is ripped away. A gunshot goes into the ceiling, causing everyone to flinch

“Pay attention to me!” Spider-Man whips his head back to Dexter, who’s looking more and more wild by the second.

“I am paying attention,” Peter holds his hands out in front of him, hands splayed towards Dexter. As the man groans, hunching over in frustration, Peter can’t stop himself from looking to Ned and MJ again, and Dexter follows his gaze.

“What are you looking at? Them?” He storms over to his best friends, glaring at them. “What, you fancy her?” He threads his hand into MJ’s hair, and she flinches.

“No!” Spider-Man yells, but the villain isn’t clear if that ‘no’ is for him grabbing MJ or him liking her.

“I need a safe passage out anyway,” He shrugs. “Get up.”

“This isn’t the way, Dexter,” Peter tries, but he’s promptly ignored.

“I said GET UP!” Dexter yells when MJ doesn’t respond. He pulls her up, and she scrambles to get her feet under her. He wraps an arm around her waist, holding her against him with the gun pressing against her neck. Spider-Man takes a step forward, dying to get to her, but multiple guns around him click off the safeties, and he freezes.

“You stay right there, or I  _ will _ shoot her,” Dexter threatens. He pulls a struggling MJ backward towards the exit. The rest of the crew follows, but they keep their guns trained on Spider-Man the entire time. The door clicks shut, and it takes Peter a moment to muster the courage to move.

“Spider-Man?” Ned asks quietly.

“I got it,” Spider-Man assures, not just Ned, but himself, shooting a web at the ceiling and slinging himself up and out. He gets outside and watches them load into a truck. Most of the crewmen climb into the storage space, but one lackey hops in the driver’s seat, and Dexter shoves MJ into the middle of the front seat before climbing in after her. Damn. He can’t just get her. He needs to get everyone.

As the truck pulls out of the alley, Spider-Man swings after it. He waits what’s hopefully long enough for Dexter to put his guard (and his gun) down before he tries to stop it. He lands on a light pole, shooting both web shooters at the back wheels of the car, and the vehicle wheels stutter.

“What the hell?” Dexter growls, putting his hands out to keep himself upright as the truck screeches to a halt. After making sure the back wheels are pretty entangled, Peter quickly webs the loading door of the truck shut, taking most of the crew out of the equation. He lands on the hood of the truck, and the vehicle shakes.

“I told you to stay there!” Dexter yells, and he fires at the teenager. MJ yelps when the windshield shatters, and Spider-Man backflips off the truck to avoid the bullet. While Peter recovers, Dexter struggles to wrestle MJ back out of the truck, and Peter turns to see him pointing the gun at her head again. Aannddd they’re back at square one. And he’s still terrified.

“I’m sorry,” Spider-Man apologizes.

“No, you’re not!” Dexter pushes the gun against MJ, who cranes her head away as much as possible. She feels disgusting being so close to this asshole, but his grip on her is too tight. MJ stares at Peter for help.

“Let her go,” Spider-Man pleads.

“I told you to stay! I should kill her out of spite,” Dexter threatens. MJ’s eyes go wide, and she tries to wrench away from him, but his grip tightens to the point of pain.

“No! I’m the one you’re mad at. Shoot at me!” Peter argues. Dexter considers for a moment, and then switches his aim to Spider-Man. That was what he was waiting for. Peter thwips a web to the gun, using the line to pull himself closer while yanking the weapon from his grasp. He threads his hands between the pair, shoving MJ out of the way so he can slam Dexter up against the truck. He quickly webs the man to the hood. When the driver of the truck flinches and reaches for something, Peter web grenades him to the seat.

“You okay?” Peter asks, rushing to help MJ up. “Did he hurt you? Did any glass get you?!”

“I’m okay,” MJ pants, trying to calm down. 

“Karen?” Peter asks.

_ “She’s alright. Just an increased heart rate,” _ The AI reports.

“Just breathe, okay?” Spider-Man rests a hand on MJ’s shoulder as the cops pull up. She reacts to the touch by flying into him, and Peter’s arms quickly come up to meet her. “It’s okay. You’re okay, yeah?”

“Yeah,” MJ mumbles into his shoulder. An officer near the pair clears his throat.

“Excuse me, ma’am. We’re going to need a statement from you,” He says quietly.

“Want me to stay with you while you talk?” Spider-Man asks quietly. MJ nods and disentangles from him. Peter lets go of her to keep identities safe, but he stays within reach. As the police chief walks over, Spider-Man knows he’s about to get screamed at for trying to handle a hostage situation alone and without training, but he’s willing to stay if it helps MJ feel at ease.


	19. Exhaustion (Dick Grayson & Slade Wilson)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHH I've been waiting for this prompt since the beginning of whumptober. As soon as I saw it, I knew I was gonna use Dick Grayson (as Robin) and Slade (Deathstroke). Their relationship in the comics is so rich, and Teen Titans just made it so much better. Read away!

Robin takes a deep breath, steadying himself. He’s trained for this. He can do this. It might take a while, but he can’t let Slade Wilson kill anyone else. Not while Robin can do something about it. He drops down, landing in a silent crouch behind Deathstroke. Apparently not silent enough, for the man casually turns around before Robin can get the jump on him.

“Ah, there you are. I’ve been expecting you,” Slade drawls, and Dick tenses at the statement, but doesn’t let it phase him. It’s just mind games, right? He shakes it out of his head. He needs to focus.

“BS,” Robin calls. “You couldn’t have known.”

“Are you sure about that? Are you sure I didn’t leave bread crumbs for you to come find me? Are you sure I haven’t been watching you train for hours on end for the mere hope of beating me? It’s sad, honestly. You still won’t win,” Slade teases. Robin’s heart lurches at the thought of hidden cameras at the base, but he rolls the anxiety into adrenaline.

“Wanna bet?” Robin snarls. He leaps at Deathstroke, who calmly sidesteps, and Dick completes a roll to land his failed attack with ease. Try two. This time, Robin doesn’t take any warning steps. He just charges up the muscles in his legs and flies at the mercenary again.

“Shame,” Slade tuts quietly as he misses a second time. The mercenary pulls out a bowstaff now, beckoning the young hero to come closer.

The battle begins, and as they fight, Robin thinks they’re evenly matched. He’s proud of himself honestly, matching the skills of one of the deadliest mercenaries on this planet. Robin throws a punch, and Deathstroke blocks it. Deathstroke tries to whack him with the staff, and Robin dodges. On and on it goes. The man lands hits only occasionally, but when they do land, they’re hard ass hits. At one point, Robin ducks under Slade’s arm when he swings at him, and the teenager solidly punches Deathstroke’s face. He isn’t even fazed.

“Is that all you have to offer?” He taunts. Deathstroke kicks him in the side, and Robin stumbles back when the harsh steel of the boot hits his hip.

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Robin growls. He does a front hand spring to kick Slade back, but Deathstroke catches his ankle in midair, stopping his trajectory and sending him crashing to the ground. Dick grunts as his head smacks the ground. He tries to ignore the throbbing at the back of his skull, and he rolls to the side to avoid the foot coming down to stomp on him. He kip-ups, landing on his feet and immediately pivoting to throw another punch at Slade.

Deathstroke steps back, and a firm hand catches the punch. Before Robin can pull away, Slade’s right hand switches to his wrist, and his left hand grabs Robin’s left wrist. He yanks Robin across, spreading his arms wide. Robin feels the man’s armor pressing into his suit as his back is splayed against Deathstroke’s chest. Dick squirms in the hold, but he knows he’s screwed. Despite how unusual of a hold this is, he knows he doesn’t have the leverage or strength to break out of it. If he tries to drop his weight or tries to flip out of it, he could hyperextend- or even break- his arms.

“Do keep trying. It’s rather amusing,” Slade murmurs. Robin bites his lip, waiting for Deathstroke to release him. The mercenary will have to change positions if he wants to finish him off, and that might be his only opportunity to escape. Robin pants as his muscles burn with overexertion. He has no idea how long he’s been fighting, but based on the sweat dripping down his face and the fatigue he’s feeling, it must have been a while since they started.

Deathstroke holds him like that for a while, as if debating something. Then, he lets go of one wrist, grabbing Dick’s shoulder and pulling his other arm into a hammerlock. Robin winces as he pulls up, sending waves of pain through his arm, and the man shoves him forward. Robin falls to his hands and knees.

“Come on, now. Don’t quit. Not until you beat me,” Slade says, and Dick’s heart drops as realization hits him. Deathstroke knows he’s going to win. He could’ve ended it there, but instead, the man wants to wear him out, make him keep fighting. He won’t let Robin stop until the boy doesn’t have a choice. Dick pulls himself to his feet, but Deathstroke kicks him in the stomach, and Robin hits the wall.

When they get back to a fluid fight, Robin realizes that Slade was holding back earlier. Robin can’t land a single hit, and every blow he receives is brutal. Dick falls into survival mode, attempting to defensively dodge everything with only the occasional offensive attack. He rolls and flips and slides to evade Deathstroke, but his energy is waning, movements getting slower and sloppier.

He pushes off a railing, flipping over Slade’s head and landing an ineffective punch in the man’s back. Deathstroke spins, and Robin throws his arms up to block a blow from the bowstaff, but he stumbles backward with the effort. The staff tilts down, and Dick yelps when his feet are swept out from under him. Deathstroke jams his boot into his ribs, holding the vigilante against the ground, and Dick doesn’t have the energy to struggle. He knows it’s useless.

“Not a bad strategy, you know,” Deathstroke chuckles, shifting more of his weight onto the boy’s chest. “Dodging until the bigger opponent gets tired? It would be a good call for most people, but you underestimate me. I could do this all. goddamn. day.” Dick gasps for air under his foot, and the man lets him up.

“Keep fighting,” Deathstroke orders, and Robin sags. He can’t do it anymore. He’s going to pass out at any moment, but he knows if he takes his eyes off Slade to attempt escape, the man will catch him from behind. He calls on his legs to get him up, but every muscle feels as sturdy as thin spaghetti, and his vision spins as soon as he’s upright.

Adrenaline tries to save him, clearing his vision enough to see Slade standing in front of him, but he can’t react fast enough to the fist aiming for his temple. Robin sees stars and black blotches race across his vision at the impact, and an incessant whining fills his ears.

“Attack me!” Slade orders. Robin feels himself moving forward, swinging his fists, but his foot catches on the ground, and he trips, stumbling forward until he collides with Deathstroke himself. His arms grapple for purchase on the blurry, solid object, trying to stay up. Deathstroke scoffs.

“Pathetic,” He disentangles the boy’s limbs from him, and Robin collapses to the floor. He’s not- he’s not finished yet. Dick slowly, painstakingly, rolls onto his stomach, pushing up onto his hands and knees. His muscles feel like they’ll give out at any moment. Slade kicks him in the ribs, and Dick cries out, falling onto his side. He instinctively pulls his knees to his chest, trying to protect the vital areas. Deathstroke takes a knee next to him.

“You only lasted 47 minutes. Impressive, but I expected longer,” Slade criticizes. Dick whimpers, attempting to curl up tighter. He knows he shouldn’t act like this. Not here, not now, but he’s so, so tired, and he can’t do it anymore. Slade threads his hand in the dark hair soaked with sweat and blood, yanking Robin’s head back and forcing the kid to look at him.

“You’re  _ weak _ . I can win anytime, anywhere. You’ll never beat me,” Deathstroke explains. Robin groans, knowing the man is right. This fight could’ve been 5 minutes long, but instead, the mercenary drew it out to be as long as possible, leaving Robin on the edges of consciousness.

“Let’s pick this up in the morning, shall we?” Slade chuckles. He reaches for Robin’s wrist and drags his body toward the computer console. Once there, he cuffs the single wrist to the leg of the table. Not that he needs to. Deathstroke knows full well that as he sits down to do work on the computer, the now passed-out Robin won’t be going anywhere for a long, long time.


	20. Concussion (Peter Parker)

“You don’t have to do this, Dr.Octavius!” Spider-Man shouts, flipping off the wall to avoid the mechanical arm coming for him.

“I’ll kill you if it’s the last thing I do!” He snarls. Peter frowns. Having a villain out to get you is a total buzzkill. He can take him down easily, but he doesn’t really want to, remembering the days he spent working with Dr.Octavius in the lab before things went awry. He’s just glad Doc still doesn’t know who he is. Spider-Man fires his web shooter and swings closer, but Doc Ock springs off the ground, grabbing onto the side of a building like he saw Peter do earlier.

Spider-Man senses that he’s about to be impaled, and he tries to change his trajectory, but he isn’t fast enough. Doc pushes off the side of the building, and although Peter manages to dodge some, one of the claws whacks him in the back of the head. He falls out of the air, and his back hits the roof of a parked car. Doc Ock lands in the road next to him, his mechanical legs walking him closer.

“Web grenades,” Peter cries, shooting as many as he can as fast as he can at Doctor Octopus. The man’s now tangled up and screaming, and Spider-Man thinks he’s secure enough as the SWAT team arrives. Peter sags against the roof of the car as his head throbs. He reaches back to massage the bump, but winces when the touch stings. His glove has blood on it. Aw, man.

Peter rolls off the car but doesn’t stick the landing, falling onto his hands and knees. He gets up, but the city is having an earthquake, and he grabs onto the car for support. Spider-Man starts towards the street corner. He needs to go home. He’s not in costume, so he can’t just swing off. Through the fog, he faintly registers paramedics checking on bystanders who got caught in the crossfire and debris of whatever just happened. Maybe a tornado or something. Someone mystically appears in front of him, and Peter bumps into her.

“Spider-Man, you okay?”

“Sorry,” Spider-Man mumbles, trying to walk past. She catches his arm, stopping him. He wobbles.

“Your head ‘s bleeding. D’ you und-stand?” She asks. Peter blinks at how weirdly the woman is talking. He takes a long moment to formulate a response.

“‘M ‘kay,” He slurs.

“Oar stumbling,” She counters. Peter stares blankly, waiting for her to let go of him.Instead, she tugs gently on his arm, pulling him somewhere. Maybe she needs help. That’s what Spider-Man does. He helps people. A moment later, she’s sitting him down on the edge of a white truck with lights that are blinding, and Peter moans. Too much input.

“Do you know where you are?” She asks. Spider-Man shrugs. The woman moves behind him, and Spider-Man flinches violently when she touches his head. He hears her talking, but doesn’t understand nor feel the need to respond. That is, until he feels the back of his mask coming up. Spider-Man recoils, flying to his feet. Her hands are out, palms forward in a calming motion. Adrenaline kicks in, bringing him back to his senses temporarily.

“No,” Spider-Man protests, shaking his head in an attempt to clear it. Before anyone can grab him, he launches himself onto the nearest rooftop, taking a knee in the gravel.

“Karen?”

“ _ You need medical assistance, Peter,” _ She chimes, and Peter winces. The volume is wayyy too loud.

“No. Not safe. Who’s closest?” He needs to figure this out before he loses it again.

_ “Michelle, but may I remind you that she doesn’t know-” _ Karen starts.

“No choice,” Peter grits. He forces himself to his feet, jumping off the edge of the building. He nearly drops his web lines several times as he goes, and he can barely make the edges of the buildings out against the darkness, but somehow, he makes it there. He knocks on the window, and MJ nearly jumps out of her skin.

“Spider-Man?” She shoots up from her chair and opens the window. Peter falls in, landing on her floor with an audible thud. He can’t quite make out her face, but he peels his mask off.

“Peter?!” MJ shouts. She suspected it, but her friend stumbling into her room isn’t how she thought it would be confirmed.

“Hit my head,” He explains drowsily. MJ sees the back of his head and stares at him worriedly.

“Okay, okay. Uh… I don’t- I don’t know how to handle this. Uh- one sec,” She turns back to her laptop, typing something in and feeling eternally grateful for the power of google.

“Be right back,” She rushes out of her bedroom. Peter scrunches his nose at his headache, sticking a finger in his ear to try and get the ringing noise to shut up. MJ returns with some supplies.

“You’re lucky I actually have medical stuff, Peter,” Michelle says, plopping down behind him. She gingerly touches the blood matting his hair down, but Peter winces.

“Sorry.”

“‘S okay,” Peter mumbles. She grabs gauze and some hydrogen peroxide.

“Might sting a bit, okay?” She warns. He nods, but it doesn’t keep him from hissing when she makes contact with the wound. He instinctively leans away, but her other hand rests on his forehead, keeping him still. Neither of them speak for a long while.

“Ouch. Hurts.”

“I know… Peter, I think you need stitches..,” Michelle says quietly.

“No. It’ll heal. Have powers,” Peter protests. MJ sighs and gets up again. 

“Be back in a sec,” She leaves again. Peter turns slightly, feeling guilt hit him when he sees the pile of bloody gauze on the floor.

“I don’t have any kind of tape, so we’re gonna get creative,” Michelle brandishes a cloth, elastic headband. She tries to get the skin closer with butterfly bandaids and pushes more gauze against the wound before using the headband to hold it there.

“Thanks,” Peter whispers when she finally pulls away. She offers him a water bottle, and he reaches for it, but his hand keeps missing it. MJ frowns and grabs his hand, setting it on the plastic and helping him find his mouth.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” She asks as he drinks. Peter swallows, but doesn’t respond. He doesn’t have the energy to have this conversation.

“‘M tired,” He mumbles. MJ gives him a hard look, but lets it go.

“Let me check if you can,” She scrolls through the page on her computer. “I have to wake you up every couple hours. You’re gonna owe me.”

“Sorry,” Peter says. She ignores him, grabbing a spare blanket from under her desk and pillow off the bed.

“You can sleep on the floor, but I don’t know what to do if my parents come in,” She drops the pillow behind him. Peter takes a minute to process and then presses the front of his suit, wriggling out of it so he’s just in his boxers. Michelle furrows her brow in confusion, but then averts her gaze, handing him the blanket. Once he’s settled under the blanket, she passes him an ice pack. “Put your head on this.”

Peter nods, slipping it behind him. It feels rough and uncomfortable to press against his head, but the coolness is soothing. MJ sits back at her desk to finish homework, but glances at him often as he sleeps. There’s going to be a lot of explaining to do in the morning.


	21. Harsh Climate (Peter Parker)

They were operating in the same city; a team-up was inevitable. Strange raises his eyebrows when he sees the black and red figure swinging towards him, but he doesn’t say anything to stop him. The kid can handle himself. At least, that’s what he thinks. Spider-Man announces his presence by flying feet first into the evil wizard that Doctor Strange is fighting. The evil man grunts and tumbles several feet away.

“What’s up, Doctor Strange?” Peter chirps. Doctor Strange glances at him and blocks a magic attack.

“Be careful. He can make stuff appear out of thin air, so don’t expect warning. Try to web his hands up,” Strange orders, emulating the sharp swiftness ingrained in him by years of surgery. Spider-Man blinks at the curtness, but doesn’t complain.

“Got it,” Spider-Man confirms, aiming for his hands. Their enemy is honestly quite confused by this newcomer, so he doesn’t expect the physical, rather than magical, attack that comes at him. His hands stick together, and he growls in frustration.

“This is a mockery to the mystic arts!” He snarls. Spider-Man scoffs at the ridiculousness, and Strange opens a portal for him to jump through, just like they had with Thanos. Peter’s moving and landing attacks so fast, he barely even processes. He just jumps where he sees light, and he’s moving on autopilot.

However, after a few hits, the wizard picks up on the pattern. Spider-Man sees another portal open and leaps through, but his feet his something soft, and he sinks in. He falls to his knees and gasps in shock as the cold air hits his lungs. He looks up to see the portal above him, and he can see the apartment building in New York. Crap!

“KID!” He hears Strange yell as he fires his webshooters. Spider-Man’s line goes taut, and he flies upward, but it’s not fast enough. The portal closes, and he flies through the open air. He lands with a squish in the snow.

“Karen? What happened?!” Peter cries, jumping to his feet. He’s on the side of a freaking mountain, and all he can see are other mountains in the moon and the starlight. It was day in New York… How far did he go?!

_“You jumped to Siberia.”_

“Russia?!” Peter’s eyes fly open.

 _“Yes.”_ Karen confirms.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Uh… tell Mr.Stark,” Peter paces in the snow. He tries to run his hands through his hair out of habit, but his hand just runs over the material of his mask.

“Done. But Mr.Stark won’t be able to access you for at least 10 hours.”

“Crap. Oh man,” Peter gasps. Every breath he takes feels like glass shards of cold piercing his lungs. “How cold is it?”

“It is -20 degrees fahrenheit. Would you like your suit heaters?”

“Yes!” They turn on, but it’s so cold that Peter barely notices. He rubs his arms. He needs a plan. Anything.

“Is anyone nearby?”

“I do not know.”

“Can we scan for people in the vicinity?” Peter asks. He waits anxiously while his suit’s AR sends out the radar.

“There appears to be a clump of heat signatures 30 miles away, but there are no technological signals,” Karen reports. Peter clenches his eyes shut, feeling the panic begin to stir in his chest. It’s freezing. _He’s_ freezing. He can already feel the wet snow starting to seep through the fabric covering his boots and lower legs. The snow is at least two feet deep, and it’s hard to walk, so he stops pacing.

“What do I do?!”

“I do not know.” Peter exhales shakily. He brings his hands to his face to blow on them, but remembers his mask is in the way. Damnit. Should he stay here? Try to go towards the heat signatures. It’s so far, and he doesn’t know if he can make it. What if Strange tries to find him, but he’s not there anymore? It’s a big risk. The heat signatures could be people, but they could also just be wild animals. He could also try to climb higher in the hopes that a plane will see him, but he highly doubts it when it’s dark out. A violent shiver runs through him, warning him that there isn’t a lot of time to dwell. He struggles to get his foot out of the snow, but it takes a while.

“Droney! C-check for any kind of caves or overhangs,” He rubs his arms as the droid goes off and watches the feed in his suit. There’s a deep overhang roughly two miles away. Peter feels a slight swell of hope. He can make that, right? And it’s not too far that Strange or Tony can’t find him.

Spider-Man starts the trek, but it’s so hard to move through the thick snow. Two miles starts to feel like a lot as he stumbles about. It’s already getting hard to move his fingers, so he flexes them as much as he can. His heart pounds violently as he travels, and it’s getting harder and harder to breathe, but he doesn’t have a choice. His body incrementally gives full-body shudders, trying to keep him as warm as possible. He tries to keep moving.

10 years later, he gets to the cliff. He’s starting to think that it’s getting even darker out, but he doesn’t know how. It’s already night. He drops to his knees, groping around for the edge of the snowy rock. He can climb down. However, his hand slips, and Peter yelps as he slips forward, over the edge. He free-falls for a moment before he manages to force his fingers to his webshooters and zips himself closer to the wall. Peter gasps in relief when his hands and feet find the wall of the mountain, and he rests his head against the rock. He’s so, so tired.

He crawls down and under the overhang until he finally finds a horizontal surface. Close enough. He’s not even shivering anymore as he lets himself drop the last few feet to the ground.

There’s not as much snow here, and he kicks and pushes it out of the way to make a dry spot. The ground is cold, but Peter collapses onto it. It’ll do.

He looks at the rock above him, and it takes a long moment for him to remember why and how he’s here. Right. Wizard. Why is this bad? Because he’s far? Nah. It’s cold, right? He doesn't feel as cold anymore. He should take off his mask. Peter pulls it off, lying down on the ground. His suit should probably come off too, but he’s kinda sleepy, so he just taps his logo to loosen it. The kid curls into a ball and passes out.

* * *

“Peter!” Doctor Strange yells when he finally finds him. Spider-Man is tucked into the tiniest crevice of the overhang. The kid’s face is almost as white as the snow around him, and he’s half undressed. Stephen realizes with horror that it’s paradoxical undressing, meaning the kid is way beyond reason.

“Peter, wake up,” He drops to his knees and taps the kid’s shoulder. No response comes. The Cloak flies off of Stephen’s shoulders, wrapping the kid up in an attempt to contain what little heat remains. Stephen presses his fingers to the boy’s throat, and the pulse is barely there. Now that he’s closer, Strange can also see traces of blue on his skin. He’s dying.

“Hospital,” He tells himself. Strange opens a portal to Metro-General Hospital and jumps through to his usual supply closet with Spider-Man in his arms. The Cloak hides the suit enough to keep his identity safe as he bursts out into the hallway.

“Christine!” He shouts. She spins around immediately, expecting to see a bleeding Stephen Strange, but her brow furrows when she sees the boy he’s holding, and she drops her clipboard on the counter instantly.

“Diagnosis?” She asks, falling into step with Strange as he hustles past her towards an open hospital room.

“Hypothermia. Severe,” Strange says quickly, and they rush him over to a bed. Once he’s down, the Cloak moves out of the way.

“Spider-Man?!”

“Christine,” Stephen says, and his tone is begging for her to focus.

“Right, right,” They pull his suit off, and Stephen picks him up so Christine can get the blanket out from under him and on top of him.

“He’s freezing,” Christine comments when her fingers brush his skin. The boy feels like a human ice cube. They move quickly, Christine inserting an IV into his arm while Stephen gathers blankets to pile up on the kid. Stephen almost pauses when he finishes layering them. Peter looks so tiny and vulnerable like this- not like the young man who fought Thanos just a few months ago. He shakes it off as Christine rushes out of the room.

Stephen grabs a pulse monitor, clipping it onto his finger. While he waits for it to register, he slips an oxygen mask over Peter’s face and turns the air on warm to help him. The pulse machine beeps.

“Status?” Christine asks, rolling a  hemodialysis machine in. It’ll circulate his blood to warm it up.

“Pulse is dangerously low,” Strange reports, backing out of the way so Christine can hook him up to the machine.

“It’ll have to get up on it’s own,” Christine reminds. Not that she needs to. Stephen knows that, and she knows he knows. She turns the machine on and steps back, resting her hands on the bed rail.

“This just keeps getting weirder,” Christine sighs, brushing her hair out of her face.

“Thank you,” Stephen says. Their eyes meet, and they look at each other a little longer than they probably should have.

“How did this happen?” Christine averts her gaze.

“A sorcerer we were fighting threw him through a portal to Sibera,” Strange sighs.

“Since when do you work with anyone other than Wong?”

“I don’t… he just showed up.”

“And you let him help?” Christine asks, raising her eyebrows.

“I thought he’d be fine. He held his own against Thanos. I just didn’t think this would happen.”

“Oh,” Christine bites her lip. “Hopefully his vitals come back up.”

“I hope so too. He’s a good kid,” A small smirk comes to Stephen’s face. “Stark will kill me if he dies.”

“Tony Stark? Is this his kid?” This would be an extremely well-kept secret if he is.

“No… I mean, not biologically. Stark treats him like a son, but he won’t outright admit it,” Strange chuckles. “He’s extremely protective.”

It falls silent as Stephen stares down at the teenager in the bed, burrowed under pounds of blankets. Worry creases his brow, and Christine smiles slightly. It always warms her heart to see him showing compassion towards someone. She settles her hand over his, running her thumb across the top.

“He’ll be okay, Stephen,” She assures. He nods, not bothering with a verbal response. Sure enough, two hours later, after his skin has turned from white to rosy pink, Peter’s eyes flutter open.


	22. Friendly Fire (Peter Parker & Tony Stark)

A small group of the Avengers are fighting a big baddie in Times Square. And by big, Tony means literally. The guy is huge (and ugly). They’ve been landing Avengers-sized hits on this dude for 10 minutes, and he’s still going strong. Thor even struck him with lightning, for crying out loud.

Tony charges up both of his repulsors, funneling a good chunk of energy from the arc reactor. He’s gonna have to hit this guy real hard to take him down. He even lands on a truck to get steady footing for the blow.

Iron Man fires off the huge blast, but right before it hits, Thor body-slams the villain, and the shot goes past. Tony hears a yelp.

Tony watches in slow motion as Spider-Man flies back with the impact, smacking into a wall 10 feet off the ground. But the force is enough that he bounces off the building, hitting the ground and rolling to a stop several feet away.

“KID!” Tony flies towards him at full speed, but he’s tackled out of the air by the person they’re fighting. His armor collides with the concrete, and Tony uses his armor to throw an extremely strong punch at his face. Steve helps, ramming into him with his shield and freeing Tony.

Iron Man tries to get to his kid, but the villain sees that he’s distracted and targets him to try and land an easy win. Every time he gets close, has to dodge away because of incoming attacks. It takes a painfully long two minutes before they finish taking the guy down. 

“Peter!” Tony falls to his knees next to Spider-Man. The kid hasn’t moved since he hit the ground, and Tony wants to check on him, but he’s afraid to touch him. The blast burned right through the suit, and the skin on his right hip and nearly half his stomach is singed, angry, and red. He did this. It’s his fault. He hurt Peter.

Steve gets there, kneeling on the boy’s other side. He glances only briefly at Tony before looking Peter over.

“Spider-Man. You with us?” Steve asks, touching his shoulder lightly. Peter doesn’t wake up. He barely even responds except for a quiet moan. Tony’s just staring at him. His fault, his fault, his fault.

“We need to get him to Helen,” Steve says, looking up at Tony. The billionaire doesn’t respond. “Tony!”

“Right. Right,” Tony snaps out of it and calls the Quinjet. Steve slips his arms under Peter and picks him up as carefully as possible. Helen greets them on the landing pad of her lab, and they rush inside. She switches on the cradle, and Steve lays him down.

“What happened?” Helen demands. Steve bites his lip and glances at Tony. No one responds. She doesn’t push, grabbing Peter’s suit and cutting away more of the area around the burn. His skin is black in some places, and ugly blisters are forming wherever they can find remaining skin. Tony feels sick.

They turn the machine on, and Helen insists that he’ll be fine- after all, Clint was completely healthy after he got burned by Hydra, and Peter heals faster, but Tony can’t look at the kid any longer. He rushes into the hallway and leans against the wall, sliding down. He buries his face in his hands. He hurt Peter. He’s supposed to keep the kid safe, and instead he gave the bright, happy teenager third degree burns. He’s a goddamn monster.

Thor comes down the hall a little while later, having taken care of the villain they took down, but he doesn’t say anything to Tony. He doesn’t know what to say, really. Earth customs still elude him, and he’s unsure if he’ll say the right thing, so he just sits down across from Tony, fiddling with Stormbreaker absentmindedly. After a while, the door to the lab opens.

“Tony,” Steve says in a quiet, soft voice. “Peter’s asking for you.”

“He doesn’t want to see me,” Tony mumbles, fighting the lump growing in his throat.

“Yes he does,” Steve treads lightly. “You comfort him.”

“I hurt him.”

“But he’s asking for you now,” Steve protests. Tony’s jaw hardens. He doesn’t want to go near the kid, afraid he’ll hurt him again, but he also knows he can’t say no to Peter (it’s a well known weak spot). He forces himself to his feet and follows Steve back in. Peter’s awake now, talking quietly with Helen.

“It’ll go faster if you stay still,” She chides. Peter ignores her, groaning and shifting.

“It hurts.”

“I know, sweetie. I can give you some morphine if you want,” Helen offers. Her gentle hand threads through his curls. She knows he needs a high dose, but she should have enough.

“Don’t like needles,” Peter protests. Helen raises her eyebrows, but when Peter shifts again, he hisses in pain. “Yes, please.”

“Hey, kiddo,” Tony takes careful steps forward, looking for any sign of fear in his kid. His voice is so shy and quiet that even Peter’s enhanced healing barely catches it. Peter reaches out for him, and Tony grabs his hand. “You okay?”

“I’m okay, Mr.Stark,” Peter confirms, but his half-lidded eyes tell a different story. He looks close to crying, and Tony can  _ feel _ how much pain he’s in. He did this to him.

“I’m so sorry,” Tony apologizes, squeezing his hand. Peter shrugs, but then winces.

“It’s okay. I’m not mad,” Peter promises. Tony stares at him. How can Peter forgive him after everything he did? If not for Helen, the kid would have permanent scars from Tony’s incompetence. He could’ve died if the blast hit him farther up, but here he is, telling Tony that he’s not the slightest bit mad about it. Tony doesn’t deserve him.

“You’re not?”

“No. Accidents happen, Mr.Stark,” The corners of Peter’s lips curl upward as he tosses his head in the direction of his torso. “This is a hot mess, isn’t it?” Tony scoffs at the pun.

“You little-”


	23. Self-Sacrifice (Shuri & T'Challa)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written with love for my big bro (not that I'll ever let him find this account, but still)

This wasn’t really supposed to happen. Yes, T’Challa has been showing Shuri some of the ropes and letting her help with small things in the Black Panther realm, but he didn’t want her in this fight. He knew going in this fight would brutal, and he was torn between getting all hands on deck and protecting his little sister. The former won out, so a combined force of Black Panther, M’Baku, Nakia, Shuri, Okoye, and the rest of the Dora Milaje is working to take this enemy down.

Things are going alright for most of the fight. T’Challa thinks maybe a few more major hits, and they’ll have won. He glances at Shuri as she uses both of her blasters on him, keeping her distance. T’Challa nods. That’s what he told her to do. She’s small and doesn’t have the heart-shaped herb so- so when T’Challa sees her own blast getting redirected, he’s sprinting.

“SHURI! MOVE!” She turns her head in his direction right as he tackles her, and the blast hits him instead. Shuri yelps when her back hits the ground. She breathes hard.

“I had that! I- T’Challa?” Shuri realizes that he’s not getting off of her.

“Brother?” She nudges him, but he doesn’t react. Her eyes widen. “T’CHALLA!”

* * *

T’Challa slowly wakes up and groans. His chest  _ really _ aches, even with the herb. He hears hurried footsteps.

“Brother?” T’Challa tilts his head at the voice to see her standing behind him. They’re in her lab.

“Sister,” T’Challa responds quietly. When they were younger he used to always repeat that when she called him ‘Brother’ instead of ‘T’Challa’, hoping that she would use his name all the time, but Shuri was stubborn, so he gave up on that front years ago. It was more of a joke now.

“You’re an idiot,” She scolds, but T’Challa knows she isn’t actually mad, just worried. Shuri moves to his side, checking the bandage on his chest. T’Challa reaches for her hand to comfort her, but she slaps his hand away without looking. Neither of them move for a second, but then Shuri reaches down to link fingers with him.

“I’m alive,” He assures. Shuri stares at him.

“It almost killed you.”

“Then it definitely would’ve killed you.”

“You can’t just yeet yourself in front of an energy blast everytime, T’Challa,” Shuri scolds. “You need to let me make my own mistakes.”

“You’re my sister. I would die for you,” T’Challa prompts. He’s giving her an open window for a vine reference, but he does mean it. He really would. That’s what big brothers are for- protecting their younger siblings.

“Then fucking perish,” Shuri scoffs. “For real though, like, you cannot always protect me.”

“I can try. Besides, Wakanda would not last a day without you,” T’Challa smirks. Shuri blushes, and then boops his nose with her free hand.

“Then don’t die, because I don’t want to be queen. I mean, I am a freaking _ queen _ , but I don’t want to be THE Queen.”

“I’m here to stay,” T’Challa promises. A mischievous smirk comes across Shuri’s face, and T’Challa feels the alarm bells from growing up go off.

“Good, because I’m about to go tell Mother that you got hurt again. She’ll be preeeettyyy pissed,” Shuri teases.

“Wait-” T’Challa starts to sit up, but Shuri pushes him back down, giving a toodaloo wave before sprinting off. T’Challa sighs. He’s royally fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little shorter. So what? fight me.


	24. Drowning (Peter Parker)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning that I used drowning in the metaphorical, not physical sense, so this has mentions of mental health such as stress, anxiety, overworking, etc.

Peter was drowning. He didn’t mean in the physical sense, although that had almost happened a few times on patrol, but more in the metaphorical sense. He was drowning in schoolwork. He was behind in a few classes as a result of missing school for Spider-Man emergencies, which yes, was justified, but the teachers wouldn’t believe him even if he told the truth. He was drowning as Spider-Man as well. No matter how many crimes he stopped, there always seemed to be more. And yeah, he understands that he can’t stop it all, and that he’s still doing good, but it doesn’t make it feel any better whenever the Daily Bugle published another piece about the “Spider-Man Menace” in Queens, claiming it’s his fault there’s so much crime. He’s just trying his best.

He’s drowning with relationships too. Ned isn’t directly upset with him, but Peter can feel the tension. He feels it whenever he hears the “We don’t hang out enough anymore” and the “again?” after telling Ned he’s going on patrol. May is proud of him, and Peter knows that, but he also knows she never stops worrying. She waits up for him to come home every night, and Peter can tell it’s making her tired, but she won’t stop. She cares too much, and she assures Peter that it’s okay, but he still feels guilty about it. And then there’s Mr.Stark. Peter thought things were going well in that department after the Vulture, but lately his anxiety has been creeping in. Tony and Peter spend a lot more time together now- in the lab, in the tower, at the compound, on patrol- but the more Tony showered him with gifts, the more Peter felt he had to repay it. He knew that wouldn’t happen monetarily- Tony would never let him and Peter didn’t have the money anyway- so he felt like he had to stop more crimes and do more good to make up for it. The burden to be smarter, safer, selfless was everlasting.

One afternoon, Peter walked home from school, planning to drop off his stuff in the apartment before he went out, but once he reached his room, something stopped him. He had so much homework to do, and the police scanner was going off, and he was still tired from last night. He’s too stressed, and next thing he knew, he was curled up on his bed, clenching his eyes shut and trying not to cry from the pressure of an entire ocean pressing down on him.

So yeah, maybe he had to take a break. Maybe it’s okay that he ditched school today. He feels like he can’t breathe, like the water has already filled his lungs, and maybe, just maybe, a day off will let him break the surface. He’s just lying on the couch, being a pointless, pathetic couch potato as he scrolls through his phone looking at dumb memes. He’s just so tired. He ignores most of his text messages, not bothering to tell Ned or MJ why he missed school or respond to Mr.Stark’s offer to come to the compound that weekend. He texts May he’s taking a sick day, but that’s it. He just wants to lie there, staring at his phone or the ceiling for hours. So that’s what he does.

Hours later, he hears the door to the apartment open. That’s odd. May should still be at work. However, his Spider-sense doesn’t go off, so he doesn’t move, not even when Mr.Stark walks around the couch.

“Hey, kiddo,” Tony says, raising his eyebrows at the teenager burrowed in a thick blanket. “Your aunt said you were sick. What’s up?”

“Um,” Peter feels a wave of anxiety hit him and sits up. He’s going to get in trouble. “I.. uh… I wasn’t feeling well.”

“What are you sick with?”

“I… last night I just.. Um… was kinda stressed,” Peter mentally curses himself as the words leave his mouth, but he just couldn’t come up with a solid excuse. He’s going to be in so much trouble. Stress isn’t a valid reason to miss school. He’s so irresponsible. He doesn’t deserve the suit.

“Oh, okay,” Tony shrugs, and Peter’s face morphs into confusion as the man begins to take off his coat. “I feel that.”

“You’re… you’re not mad?” Peter gapes. Tony pauses.

“Why would I be mad?”

“Because I’m not really sick..,” Peter clarifies.

“You’re not- what?” Tony takes a second to fully process what Peter said, and his face softens. “Oh. Pete… mental health days are totally valid sick days.”

“But-”

“No buts. You do way more than enough for this world to deserve a day off. Now scooch,” Tony taps his feet through the blanket, and Peter pulls his knees in, sitting up against the couch cushions. Tony sits down on the couch unceremoniously.

“I’m sorry. I was just feeling really anxious and stressed and tired and I just… needed a break,” Peter mumbles. “Sorry.”

“Kid, stop apologizing. It’s okay, I promise,” Tony assures. Peter doesn’t respond, staring at his feet while one leg bounces anxiously. Tony eyes him and then claps his hands together as an idea hits him. “Y’know what? Let’s watch a movie. That sound good, sport?”

“Sure,” Peter shrugs, and even though it’s not as enthusiastic as Tony would like, he takes it. He reaches for the remote, scrolling through action movies on Netflix. He’s not really sure what Peter will want, so he just keeps going, and Tony is relieved when Peter makes a small noise.

“That one?”

“Yeah,” Peter says quietly. The movie starts, and a few minutes in, Tony looks over to see the kid curled up under the blankets, arms holding his knees to his chest, and Tony thinks his breathing might be a little off. He knows Peter likes physical contact, so maybe it’ll help him relax?

“Wanna come over here?” Tony asks. Peter nods, scooting closer to him. He stays in a ball, but when Tony slings an arm around his shoulders, Peter leans into it, nuzzling his head against Mr.Stark’s chest. Tony smiles and throughout the movie, as he absentmindedly strokes Peter’s arm, the boy’s breathing stabilizes.

Peter closes his eyes, feeling a semblance of peace for the first time in weeks. He’s finally found some shore, and now he’s recovering. Yeah, there’s still some water in his lungs, but that’s okay. His lifeguard’s right here, watching movies with him and keeping him safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This... this started out so angsty and ended up so fluffy. How did I get here? Such a turnaround. Happy ending :)


	25. Restraints (Tony Stark)

Look, Tony’s used to getting kidnapped. It happens all the damn time. But please, for the love of god, can they just use normal handcuffs? Tony shifts his wrists, fighting the urge to try and scratch them. These people pulled the itchiest, gnarliest rope out of who knows where.

Tony feels a throbbing in his back and grits his teeth, but he doesn’t move to adjust it. Not only is he tied up, they’ve tied him up like he’s Superman. In addition to the fact that his hands are tied tight enough and high enough to force his chest forward, they’ve coiled an entire roll around his torso, holding him securely to the chair. Each foot is tied to a metal chair leg from the ankle to the knee. All of it is with that same, disgusting hemp rope that scratches his skin if he struggles. The sad part is, the sheer amount of rope on him isn’t even the worst part.

There’s a rope wrapped around his neck, and it’s anchored down to the ropes on his back. It’s not outright choking him, but it’s not easy to breathe either, and Tony has to arch his back to avoid suffocating. That was fine at first, but the ropes around his torso are tight, and his muscles burn from the ache of constantly pushing against them to hold his neck back. He’s been here for at least an hour, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold out. He sometimes lets his body rest for a moment, choking himself until he can’t take it any longer and forces himself back into position.

“Mistah Stark,” A voice drawls, and Tony winces. He’s not in the mood to banter right now. Not when all he desperately wants is to pass out. He clenches his jaw and looks up at the lanky guy who has now entered the room. He’s wearing flannel, and aside from thinking those colors clash, Tony thinks the accent, attire, and ropes may all be related. Is he in the country or something?

“I’ll have the hamburger,” Tony quips, savoring the look of confusion that crosses the man’s face. His captor quickly regains his composure.

“This is not a diner,” He snarls. Tony nods, grimacing as he’s reminded of the rope around his neck.

“Yes, yes. That’s fine. Make sure to bring the fries, okay?”

“I think ya misunderstand the gravity of ya situation here, Mistah Stark,” The captor hisses, and Stark fights the smirk that tries to come to his lips. This guy is getting hot and bothered so easily, and he’s still trying to hide it.

“I’m pretty sure it’s always 9.8 meters per second,” Tony says. The man runs his hand through his hair, annoyed, but then, he drops it, and a slow smile comes to his lips. Tony doesn’t like that. He could really use the rest of the Avengers right now.

“Okay, science man. Wanna tell me how many volts are in this here taser?” He brandishes the weapon in front of him. Tony bites his lip. That’s not where he expected this to go. “No response? Okay.”

Tony yelps when the prongs dig into his left shoulder, and he writhes in the chair, pulling against the ropes to the best of his strength. When he stops, he’s left panting, and he barely has the strength to keep the rope from choking him.

“Well?” Tony doesn’t respond to the inquiry, so the man shrugs and shocks him again. And again. And again. He watches Tony’s eyes closely, stopping whenever he’s going to pass out. It hurts, and Tony’s entire body aches. Even between the convulsions, he can feel his muscles buzzing and twitching.

He almost sobs in relief when an arrow hits the taser out of his hand. Tony finally lets go, slumping forward in the chair. He’s awake, but he can’t hold himself up any longer. The rope digs into his throat, cutting off his air, but he can’t be bothered to fix it.

Natasha sprints up to her teammate, only stopping for a millisecond to register the rope around his neck. She presses a hand against Tony’s forehead, pressing down through the sweat coating his skin to crane his head back. Her other hand saws through the rope with a knife. Tony gasps for air when it comes undone, savoring the sweet, sweet oxygen without as much pain in his abdomen.

“Talk to me, Tony,” Natasha says, and Tony doesn’t have the air to formulate words, but he does make a soft noise in his throat. Romanoff doesn’t push for more, ignoring the sounds of their other teammates taking down the people who kidnapped him. She carefully cuts away the rest of the ropes, and Cap is there to catch Tony when he tips forward. Steve runs his fingers through Tony’s hair soothingly as while Natasha works his legs free.

“Banner’s waiting on the jet,” Steve explains, helping Tony to his feet. They only make it two steps before Tony stumbles, and despite his noises of protest, Tony lets Cap pick him up and carry him outside. Bruce’s eyes widen when he sees his friend.

“Jesus christ, Tony,” Bruce stares at his wrists, and Tony looks down too. All his writhing and struggling meant that the ropes dug into his wrists. Both of his wrists and forearms were rubbed raw, covered in cuts, blue with bruises, and bleeding freely. Oh. Steve sets him down, and Tony sits there quietly as Bruce wraps his wrists up before moving to his ankles. He relaxes into his seat, letting Steve strap him in for takeoff. Maybe he was just tied up, but Tony doesn’t care. These restraints are good. These are safe. No one’s going to hurt him with his team around.


	26. Broken Ribs (Peter Parker)

Peter rubs his chest, forcing himself to take a deep breath. His ribs are thoroughly bruised, but Bruce assured him they’re just fractured, but it still hurts. He just has to remember to breathe deeply and avoiding jostling, or he can get pneumonia. Peter carefully pulls on a shirt and soft sweatshirt before grabbing his backpack. **  
**

“You feeling a bit better today, Pete?” May asks when he walks into the kitchen. Peter forces a smile.

“Yeah, May. I’m good.”

“No superheroing until you get better, okay?”

“Got it,” Peter agrees. May kisses him on the forehead.

“Have a good day at school, sweetie.”

* * *

 

Peter sighs as his class finally ends. He’s starving.

“Ready to eat lunch?” Peter asks, twisting around in his seat. He regrets it instantly, hissing in pain as his ribs give him a sharp pain.

“You good, man?” Ned asks, narrowing his eyes in concern.

“Yeah, just uh..,” Peter lowers his voice. “Took a couple hits yesterday.”

They two boys gather their stuff and move into the hallway. It easy to fall into the natural stream of people going down the hall, but of course, someone decides to defy the flow of the crowd.

“Hey Penis Parker!” Flash’s voice rings in Peter’s oversensitive ears, and Peter tosses his head back in frustration as he hears him coming closer.

“Flash, what do you-“ Peter’s cut off when Flash shoves him, hard. Peter’s chest slams into the locker, and the resulting bang echoes in the hallway. Peter feels pain stabbing him in the chest, and grits his teeth.

“Can’t see where you’re going, Flash?” Michelle comes out of the blue, stepping between Peter and Flash.

“I can see,” Flash denies. He gives Michelle a once over before scoffing. “Lucky you have your girlfriend to protect you, Parker.”

Michelle glares at Flash until he’s disappeared into the crowd, then turns around to check on Peter. His hands are on the locker, his forehead is resting against the cool metal, and he’s breathing hard.

“Peter, you okay?” Michelle asks, lightly touching his shoulder. He pulls away from the lockers, wincing.

“Yeah… just… hit a sensitive spot,” Peter says through his teeth. It’s a little harder to breathe, but he’s attributing it to the pain. Ned quietly reminds MJ of the Avengers fight on the news the other day, and she nods.

“Let’s get to the cafeteria,” Ned suggests, and Peter’s two friends walk on either side of him, making sure he’s protected from bumping into any of the other students in the hallway. When they get to their usual table, Peter plops down, gasping as it jostles his ribs more. The stabbing pain in his chest hasn’t gone away, and he touches his left ribcage only to pull away in agony.

“You sure you’re okay?” Michelle asks. Peter nods, forcing himself to take deep breaths.

“The lines are down. Want to get some food?” Ned tilts his head towards the food, and Peter nods, getting up to follow him. He clenches his eyes shut as he gets his food, and Mrs.Peterson, one of the lunch ladies, eyes him when he doesn’t give her the same cheery hello as usual. Peter’s panting as he starts back toward the table, Ned on his heels. As he moves, it becomes hard to breathe, like he can’t get enough air in his lungs. He just needs to get back to the table. Left foot, right foot. Left foot, right foot. Next thing he knows, he’s falling.

“PETER!” Ned calls, trying to catch him. It doesn’t help. Peter hits the floor, and his ribs explode in pain. He rolls onto his back, trying to breathe, but he can’t. The air won’t come in, and his torso feels like a balloon. His eyes roll back into his head.

* * *

 

Peter wakes up to a crowd around him, as well as a teacher and Ned kneeling by his side. Peter heaves, but his chest hurts, and as paramedics push their way through, he passes out again.

* * *

 

Peter opens his eyes again to a hospital room. The lights are bright, so he shuts them again, groaning.

“Pete?” Aunt May’s voice calls.

“Did he open his eyes?” Tony asks quickly, and Peter smiles. They’re both here with him. He blinks his eyes open again, carefully adjusting to the whiteness of his room.

“What happened?” Peter moans, and it’s then that he notices the oxygen mask around his mouth.

“You punctured a lung, kid,” Tony explains. “Passed out at school.”

“Oh. I thought it was fine,” Peter decides to stop talking as his chest protests the motion. He looks down and sees a tube in his chest. He frowns.

“It’ll come out soon. Just relax until it heals, okay sweetie?” May coos, running a hand through his hair. Peter sighs and leans back against the bed. He takes a careful breath, feeling relief flow through him as it comes relatively unrestricted.


	27. "I can't walk." (Peter Parker & Tony Stark)

“STOP!” Tony flinches when he sees the baseball bat come down on Peter’s leg, and his kid screams in pain.

“He’s a spider, ain’t he? Don’t spiders’ legs grow back?” Their torturer asks, spinning the bat round in his hand.

“Hurt me!” Tony demands, pulling at his restraints. “I’ll do whatever you want… just- just leave him alone!”

“Okay,” The man takes a step closer to Tony, who’s seated across from Spider-Man. “Where are the infinity stones?”

Tony bites his lip. He can’t say that. If someone else knew about them, they could have a whole ‘nother Thanos. Peter stares at him, but he licks his lips and tries to speak through the sedatives in his body.

“Don’t tell ‘em, Mr.Stark,” Peter slurs. It’s barely audible, throat hoarse from all the screaming. Tony feels his heart drop, and he looks back to the man with the baseball bat. Tony opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. The torturer shrugs.

“Okay then,” He whirls around, bringing the aluminum bat down on Peter’s knee. A blood-curdling scream fills the warehouse. Peter writhes in pain, but every way he shifts just makes it worse. When he can finally breathe again, Peter sobs at the agony coming from the now broken kneecap.

“NO!” Tony roars. Their captor doesn’t even flinch, instead drinking in the sight of the teenager heaving. He spins the bat in his hand again, moving around to Peter’s other side. The weapon hovers over the leg that’s still intact.

“Where are the infinity stones?” He asks again.

“Don’t-” Peter starts to rasp, but the bat slams into his stomach, winding him. Spider-Man wheezes, falling forward in his chair. The man pushes him back.

“What’ll it be, Stark?”

“Go to hell,” Tony snaps. He twists his wrists in the ropes, praying he can find a way out. The maniacal man chuckles.

“You’re not so scary without your suit, y’know.” Before Tony can protest again, he brings the bat down on Peter’s thigh. The teenager yelps, and Tony can actually hear the crack of the bone. Tears stream out of his kid’s eyes, and he looks to Tony pleadingly. The bat hits the ground with a loud clatter, and the man reaches behind him, pulling out a knife. Tony tenses.

“Don’t,” Tony protests. The torturer glances at Stark, and he grabs Peter’s hair, pulling his head back to expose his neck. The edge of the knife comes to rest on Peter’s neck, right where his suit meets his skin, and Peter struggles to hold his breath.

“Tell us, or the brat dies,” He threatens. Peter whimpers as the blade digs into his skin, drawing a bit of blood. Tony moves instantly. He lurches forward, bringing the chair he’s tied to with him. The man startles, adjusting his grip on his knife to stop Tony, but he’s not fast enough. Tony collides with him, and the knife pulling away from his neck cuts Peter’s jawline. It stings, but he can still breathe. When the two men hit the floor, Tony’s chair bursts, allowing him to move his body more. Before the interrogator can get back up, Tony swings his leg around, hitting his target’s head with the wood stuck to his ankle. He’s out cold.

“T-Tony?” Peter asks, unable to see behind him.

“He’s down, Spidey,” Tony promises. He squirms towards the knife on the ground, managing to get it into his grasp. He can’t see what he’s doing, so he cuts himself a few times, but his hands are free, followed shortly by his ankles. He rushes to Peter.

“I got you, kid,” Tony gets his ropes cut away and wraps an arm around his waist. “We have to move.” He tries to get Peter up, but the boy can’t do it. It hurts to even move his legs.

“I-I can’t walk,” Peter gasps. Tony frowns. He can’t carry Peter AND fight. This place will be crawling with guys.

“Okay, okay,” Tony searches for a solution. “Your web shooters still intact?”

“Think so,” Peter turns his wrist over slowly, experimentally pressing the trigger. A bit of webbing hits the wall.

“Good. I’m gonna carry you, but you need to web up anyone you see, ok? I won’t be able to help you,” Tony explains. He swipes Peter’s mask up off the floor, pulling it on for him.

“‘Kay,” Peter agrees. He hisses when Tony hooks his arms under his legs and picks him up, but he manages to push the pain to the back of his mind. Tony’s other arm holds his torso securely to his chest. They burst into the hallway, and Peter immediately has to web up some guards. It takes him a couple tries because of the weird angle and the drugs still in his system, but he manages it.

Tony moves as quickly as he can with a teenage boy in his arms, but he’s starting to get tired, and he doesn’t know his way out. He rounds a corner and sees a clump of guards. He quickly pulls back and leans against the wall. That’s not good.

“I got it. Lemme shoot at them,” Peter assures. Tony tenses, but he listens, stepping into view. Spider-Man launches several web grenades, and Tony pulls them back into hiding during the time between them being shot at and the grenades activating. No more shots come, just the sounds of frustrated yelling. They dart across the intersection. They find a few more men in the gardens, but Peter’s surprisingly on top of it, webbing people to trees and bushes before they’re even noticed.

Tony almost cries with relief when they reach the edge of the woods. He runs farther into them, until his arms and back feel like they can’t hold Peter up any more. He carefully sets him down against a tree.

“You alright? Nothing life-threatening?” Tony asks, and Peter nods. He rests his head against the tree, clenching his eyes shut as the adrenaline wears off and the pain sets in again.

“Just hurts,” Peter pants, and Tony plops onto the dirt next to him.

“Good work, kiddo,” Tony pats his shoulder. “Just give me a minute to recover, and we’ll get you to Banner, got it?”

“Mmhmm,” Peter humms. He’s exhausted and leans over, resting his head against Tony’s shoulder. They’re safe, and they’re together. That’s what matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teamwork makes the dream work.


	28. Severe Illness (Peter Parker)

Tony continues to sneak glances at Peter, who’s sitting at one of the lab tables. The high schooler is scribbling away at his homework, but his coughs are starting to concern the man. They’re raspy, dry coughs, and they come in violent spurts that make his entire body shake.

“Kid, you sure you’re okay?” Tony asks. Peter startles, which certainly doesn’t help his position when he responds.

“Yeah, it’s just a cold or something,” He doesn’t look away from his work, but Tony noticed the bags under his eyes when he first walked in. The kid never took his winter coat off either, and it’s 70 degrees fahrenheit in the lab…

Tony pushes it to the back of his mind. He doesn’t want to come off as overprotective, and he trusts Peter to know his own health. He refocuses on the prototype he’s adjusting for Stark Industries, but some time later, he hears the scrape of Peter’s chair as he pushes back. Tony turns to ask if the kid’s hungry, but instead, he watches in confusion as Peter stumbles towards the door. Peter falls to his knees and vomits into the plastic container.

“Pete!” Tony rushes over, kneeling beside him. He sets a hand on the boy’s back, but Peter doesn’t respond, continuing to vomit. When he finally stops, Peter tilts forward, resting his forehead against the edge of the trashcan.

“I’m o-” Peter starts to say, but then he’s retching into the trash can again. When he’s done, Tony puts a hand on his forehead. Even through the sweat, he can feel that it’s hot. Way too hot.

“Med bay,” Tony orders, and Peter moans.

“No, ‘m okay,” He protests, but Tony is already pulling him to his feet. The room sways, and Peter’s other hand quickly finds Mr.Stark’s arm, clutching onto him for support.

“Let’s go,” Tony carefully pulls him along, getting him into the elevator and then into a chair in the med bay. He tries to ignore the dry coughs as he rummages through the cabinet. His fingers finally grasp the thermometer, and he walks back over to Peter. His hair is sticking to his forehead, so Tony has to push it out of the way before he can run the thermometer across his forehead. When he sees the reading, it takes everything in his power to keep a straight face. It’s 104.6. That’s way too high.

“We’re gonna go on a little trip,” Tony says, keeping his voice steady. Peter looks up at him in confusion.

“What? What does it say?” Peter cranes his neck, but Tony’s already putting it down on the table.

“Don’t worry about it, c’mon,” Tony grabs Peter’s arm, pulling him back toward the elevator. A few minutes later, Tony’s speeding out of the parking garage, Peter in the passenger seat. Peter’s completely silent, and when Tony glances over at him, he sees that the boy has curled up in his seat, knees to his chest as he leans against the window. His arms are wrapped tightly around his stomach.

“Pete?” Tony rubs his knee at a stoplight.

“Mmhmm?”  Peter humms, keeping his eyes shut from the bright streetlights.

“Got a stomach ache?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you know how you got sick? Is there something passing around school? Did someone cough on you on the subway? What is it?” Tony asks. Peter is silent for a while, long enough that Tony’s about to repeat his question before he breaks it.

“Fought this guy last night,” Peter groans. “Evil scientist vibe to him. Maybe that.” Tony tenses. That didn’t sound good. Not at all. He accelerates the car.

20 minutes later, they arrive at the ER. Tony sits Peter down in a chair, and he notices how much paler he got between the Tower and the ER. He grabs a clipboard from the receptionist, filling out all of Peter’s medical info. He doesn’t need to ask any questions. Tony memorized it long ago.

“Mr.Stark, I don’t think I’m that sick,” Peter mumbles, sneaking glances at the clipboard. Yeah, he feels worse than that time he had the flu, but that was before he had his powers. He’s probably fine now, even if he’s having consistent coughing fits. It’s probably just strep throat.

“Not taking any chances, kid,” Tony replies. He gets up to hand the paperwork back and sits back down with Peter. He sends a quick text to Aunt May, and he’s barely hit send when they call him back. Peter slowly gets up, but he hesitates, just standing there. He hates hospitals. He can barely stand them since the spider-bite put him there for days, and now the anxiety is setting in. Tony notices the hesitation and puts his hand on Peter’s back, urging him forward.

“I’ll stay with you, I promise,” Tony whispers, keeping his hand there as a reminder.  A short while later, Peter’s sitting in a hospital bed, his brain struggling to keep up with the onslaught of questions the doctor is asking about his symptoms. He coughs into his arm, and Peter looks down to see a bit of blood on his sleeve. Oh.

“We’re gonna get a blood test from you, ok?” The doctor says. His voice is calm and soothing, but Peter stares at the needle with apprehension. Tony moves to his other side, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. Peter gives a subtle nod to the doctor before looking away, meeting Tony’s eyes. He keeps the gaze locked down until he feels the prick in his finger. He bites his lip at the prick, but stays still. On any other day, Tony would tease Spider-Man for being afraid of needles, but he was too worried now. Ironically, the doctor gives him a Spider-Man bandaid, and Tony’s relieved to see a slight smile on the boy’s face. When the doctor leaves, Peter leans back against the pillows.

“Feeling okay?” Tony asks.

“No,” Peter groans. “Can I have my phone?”

“Of course,” Tony pulls it out of his pocket, and Peter takes it, but he doesn’t open it, just clutches it in his hand against his side.

“Trash can,” Peter says suddenly, and Tony startles, rushing to grab it. Peter retches into it, pulling away with a groan when he’s done.

“It’s okay, bud,” Tony assures, rubbing the back of his neck. It’s coated in sweat. He looks up when the doctor returns, flanked by a couple nurses wearing gloves. One of them starts gathering up the IV, and Peter stares at her with confusion.

“What’s going on?” Tony asks. The doctor frowns, handing Peter a pamphlet.

“We’re going to move you into isolation, Peter,” He explains. Peter’s eyes shoot open, and he tries to sit up.

“What?!” He swivels his head to look at Tony.

“Why?” Tony demands, tightening his grip on Peter’s shoulder.

“C-Can he come?” Peter stares up at his mentor. The doctor frowns.

“I don’t believe it’s safe. We don’t know what’s affecting you, so we don’t know if it’s contagious. It’s for your safety,” The doctor explains. They’re moving at a pace that’s slow to their medical staff, but to Peter, it feels way too fast. He grabs Tony’s hand, holding it tightly.

“I don’t wanna go,” He whimpers, eyes wide with fear. Tony feels a lump in his throat, and he looks to the doctor, who clears his throat uncomfortably.

“Peter, I know this is hard, but it’s for everyone’s safety. Other people could get hurt. You don’t want that, do you?” The doctor asks. Tony grits his teeth at the man’s tone of voice and leading question. It’s patronizing. But Peter bites his lip, thinking about it. He’s Spider-Man. His whole job is helping people. He’s fought tons of bad guys. A little isolation couldn’t be that bad, right? He clenches his eyes shut, forcing his fingers to pry off of Tony’s hand. Tony feels his heart break with their grip.

“Is there no way I can be with him?” Tony insists. Peter’s a people person. He needs Tony to keep him grounded. He’ll panic and be anxious and freak out. Tony promised he would stay. However, he can’t do anything about it, even as they start wheeling Peter’s bed away.

“I’m sorry, Mr.Stark,” The doctor frowns. Tony feels his muscles burn with the desire to follow. To protect. He sits down in one of the hallway chairs, running his hands over his face. What the hell did that scientist hit Peter with?

* * *

Peter feels like he’s going to die. Maybe he is, maybe he isn’t, but he feels so terrible that he just wishes he could pass out to avoid the pain. However, every time he tries to sleep, he starts coughing, and every couple hours he vomits. The layers of blankets on top of him do nothing to help with the chills. The nurses come by every so often, checking his vitals and assuring him that the fever will break eventually, but every part of his body just aches, and he’s tired of being told that they can’t give him anything because they don’t know what he’s sick with.

His body’s going to have to fight it off on its own, so all they do is stick an IV in his arm and replace the fluids often. His brain is confused, and Peter can’t really think straight, but he does wonder why his body hasn’t beaten it yet. He has the enhanced metabolism right? The thought doesn’t stick around long before he loses the energy, lying back in bed and staring at the ceiling with desperate hopes of sleep.

All that seems to do is make things worse. Usually when he’s sick, May would be there, fawning over him and making sure he has soup and water and whatever else he needs. She’d run her hand through his hair and turn on his favorite movies. Even if it wasn’t May, he’d be somewhere he knew. He once slept in a guest room at the Avengers Tower when he had the flu and May had to work. Here he’s alone, and the surroundings are foreign. The walls and sheets and blankets are so  _ white _ , and if he hears his heart rate monitor beep much longer, he’s going to scream.

On top of all that, Peter admits he’s scared. He doesn’t know what’s going on. He doesn't know if his body will beat this. He feels so horrible that he can’t tell if he’s gotten better or worse. It’s all a whirlwind, and he just wants someone-  _ anyone _ \- to come tell him it’s okay, that it’s going to be okay.

* * *

Tony and May stand anxiously as the doctor updates them on Peter’s condition. It’s been 36 hours, and Peter’s condition has improved, but only minimally. His fever is down to a whopping 103.9, and he’s stopped vomiting, but he’s coughed up all the phlegm in his throat, so he’s consistently coughing up blood. When May hears this, she reaches over without thinking and grabs Tony’s wrist, not wanting to hear the gory details. Tony picks up that it’s upsetting her.

“Is he going to be okay?” Tony interrupts. The doctor blinks as he’s cut off, but brushes it off quickly. He’s used to it.

“His body is kinda tired… so is he. We had to give him some mild sedatives to help him sleep. But… I think his condition is getting a bit better. It’s still early, but if he progresses in this direction, he’ll be better in a few days. The only question relies on if he can take the beating for another while.”

“Can we see him?” May asks again. The doctor’s silence gives her the answer, and she tightens her grip on Tony’s wrist.

“Just keep us posted, okay Doc?” Tony shakes his hand and waits for the doctor to turn away before he looks at May. “You holding up okay?”

“I’m just so worried,” May sighs. She pulls her hand away, rubbing at her eyes. She’s barely slept at all, only when Tony talked her into it by promising to wake her if anything happened. He, of course, hasn’t slept a bit, being well trained in sleep deprivation. The two settle back in to wait for more changes.

* * *

It’s a full two days later when they deem Peter well enough to have visitors, and he nearly flies into May when she comes to the side of the bed. He clutches on tightly, nuzzling his head into her shoulder.

“Hey, sweetie,” May coos, wrapping her arms around him. Peter quivers, physically exhausted, but so, so relieved to see a familiar face. Tony comes to the side of the bed as well, and Peter reaches out with one of his arms to pull him into the hug.

“You alright, kiddo?” Tony asks, running a hand through his hair. Peter makes a noise that Tony can’t decipher, but he takes it as an answer. It’s a long while before Peter finally pulls away, leaning back against the pillows.

“I miss you,” Peter says, and his voice is hoarse from all the coughing.

“You’ll be out soon, Peter,” May promises. “The doctor said it’ll just be a couple more days and they’ll release you. You can come home.”

Peter looks so relieved that it hurts, and Tony makes a mental note to have the Parkers’ freezer filled to the brim with ice cream when he’s released. They don’t say much else, but after days with nothing but brief visits from nurses, Peter’s just happy to have his family with him. By the time the pair is ushered out by the staff, May admits he looks a little healthier just from the contact. Peter decides that he will be okay after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I'll write something short," I said. "Maybe under 1000 words," I said. Such lies.


	29. Seizure (Dick Grayson (Robin))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another batman one

This mission was not going well. Not at all. They’re testing out a new strobe gadget, and apparently, Dick’s body doesn’t like it.

Robin takes out the lights and Batman activates the device. The intention is for the lights to disorient the thugs, and yeah, they’re pretty confused. Robin leads three of them away from Batman, flipping out of the way and throwing punches. Then he makes the mistake of looking at the light.

“What the fuck?” A voice yells. Batman grapples with the guy he’s holding and sneaks a glance to his right. Robin’s on the ground, writhing around.

“Robin!” Batman yells, but no response comes, and the kid is moving too much to be unconscious.

“Hit him already!” One of the others says, and the third kicks the seizing boy in the side. Batman drops a smoke pellet, sprinting towards Dick. He brushes all of the men back with a swish of the cape, throwing all caution to the wind as he lashes out with punches and kicks. A thug falls back, tasered, and another hits the ground with ropes tightly entwining him. Batman easily disarms the last thug and puts him out cold.

“Robin?” Batman kneels next to his partner, but he’s convulsing, and his limbs spasm periodically. Bruce quickly clears the area of anything that might hurt him (including shutting off the strobe), and after a minute, Robin’s shakes finally slow. He moans, shifting uncomfortably.

“Br-”

“Shh,” Batman hushes, eyeing the thugs to make sure they’re still down. He sets a careful hand on Robin’s shoulder. “What happened?”

“I-I dunno. Just blacked out,” Robin groans. He tries to roll onto his side, but his body refuses to listen, so he just blinks, watching the ceiling swirl. He sees a black mass, but he’s not quite sure if it’s Batman or not. He could be imagining it.

“You had a seizure,” Bruce says, and it takes a long moment for Dick to register it.

“Oh,” Robin grits his teeth.

“Cave. Now,” Batman orders. Robin breathes heavily. He isn’t ready to go yet, but when he’s with Batman, that’s never an excuse. He lifts his heavy arm up, and Batman grabs his hand, pulling him to his feet. He falls right into Batman’s arms as his legs give out, and Bruce feels some worry go through him. Dick’s a strong kid. He’ll be fine.

Robin mumbles something incoherent, and Batman picks him up, clicking the button on his belt to alert GCPD. They can handle this. He needs to get his kid home first.

Alfred says he’s fine, but insists that Dick lie in bed for at least 12 hours. Bruce is at least happy to hear Dick protesting, meaning that he’s fully conscious again. He wants to go back out on patrol, and he looks to Bruce for help. Bruce shrugs, sending him a look that says ‘I don’t make the rules.’ and tilting his head towards Alfred.

“Please? Can I at least have my playstation? Or Wally?”

“Young man, screen time is the last thing you need right now, and we all know you and Wallace are bound to get into trouble. So you’re going to stay. right. here,” Alfred orders, much to Dick’s dismay. The old man pulls the covers up to Dick’s chin, and the prideful teenager glares at him, but Bruce knows his ward all too well. Dick loves being tucked in.

“So, strobe gadget is a no go?” Bruce jokes, and Dick rolls his eyes.

“I’d say no,” Dick scoffs, rolling over in bed. Bruce takes the hint, leaving the boy’s room with the door open, in case he needs to call for anything. He’ll be just down the hall, ready to spring into action if he hears the slightest sound from his teenager’s room.


	30. Caregiver (Peter Parker)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peter is the one doing the caregiving and finds himself a little in over his head.

“MR.STARK!” Spider-Man screams as the weapon drives into Iron Man’s stomach. Despite the armor, the otherworldly blade cuts through it like wrapping paper. Peter thwips both web shooters at the alien, slingshotting himself at them with full force. The alien flies back, and Peter turns to Mr.Stark.

“Are you okay?” Spider-Man demands. Iron Man has a hand over the stab wound, filling it with nanobots to staunch the bleeding.

“I’ll manage,” Tony grits out. Peter’s senses tell him the alien is charging at them again, so he flips to the side, shooting webs at their attacker and pulling hard as soon as his feet make impact with the top of a car. The car drifts sideways, burning rubber, but it has enough effect that the big creature goes barreling past Tony instead of into him.

“Hey green bean! Over here!” Spider-Man taunts, shooting them in the side of the head. The monster turns on him, and Peter launches upwards to avoid them. He attaches webs to the ground and pulls himself back down. His feet make impact the alien’s head, and although Peter can feel the hit reverberation all the way up his legs, his target soon collapses.

“You know, you might be big and all, but the Hulk is still better,” Spider-Man wastes no time in shooting them with as many webs as he can, making sure he’s secure.

“Mr.Stark!” Spider-Man vaults over some debris to get to him. Iron Man is on his knees, gauntlet pressed tightly against his wound. Blood drips down the front of the armor, turning the red even darker.

“‘M fine,” Tony objects, feebly swatting the kid away when he tries to help him up. However, Iron Man doesn’t actually make any moves to get up, keeling over. Peter glances towards the alien. The police should be able to handle it from here.

“C’mon. We gotta get you back to the tower,” Spider-Man grabs his arm, and he pulls Iron Man to his feet, but Tony’s passing out. Peter scrambles to catch him before he hits the ground.

“Crap! Karen, ask Friday to override Tony’s suit. Autopilot back to the tower,” Spider-Man requests. He holds his breath to see if that’ll work, and he nearly pumps his fist in relief when the suit starts manipulating the semi-conscious billionaire on its own. The suit flies back towards Avengers Tower, and Spider-Man swings after it, getting there just moments after the suit contacts the landing pad. Peter slingshots himself up and in.

“Friday, open up!” Peter calls, and he catches Tony when he pitches forward. He can’t support Tony’s weight with an arm over the shoulder- he’s too short for that, but he’s definitely not too weak to pick him up. Peter picks his mentor up bridal style and hurries towards the med bay. A part of him is amused- these situations are usually the other way around- but he’s too worried about Tony to dwell on it. The man doesn’t have the same healing as other Avengers.

Peter sets Tony on a bed before rushing away to find supplies. He doesn’t remember where everything is, so the teenager is left frantically rummaging through every drawer and cabinet until he finds the things he needs. He fills his arms with cleaning supplies, gauze, tape, a needle, and dissolvable thread, dropping it all on the tray next to Tony’s bed.

Peter lifts Tony’s shirt up and cringes. His entire stomach is covered in blood, and Peter realizes just how in over his head he is. Oh crap. He tells Karen to page Doctor Strange, but it’s likely the man won’t be here for a bit. He has to do what he can. After pulling off his suit, Peter grabs gloves and the sterilizing alcohol and steadies himself. He can do this. He pours some of the liquid onto the wound. Tony cries out in pain.

“Sorry!” Peter says quickly. He has to put his hand on Tony’s stomach, keeping the man’s back from arching. He needs to stay still. He grabs some of the gauze, doing what he can to clean the wound. Who knows what that blade had on it? The more he cleans, the deeper the cut seems to go, and Peter can barely keep up with the blood pooling. He apologizes in advance before pouring some more sterilizer on, and Tony groans. Peter wipes the excess liquid away again, and he doesn’t know if there’s anything else he can do on this front. Biting his lip, Peter reaches for a suture and some thread. He hates needles as is, so the thought of using one on someone he loves? Terrifying. Tony’s eyes meet his, and despite how nervous Peter is, and how out of it Tony is, the look of unwavering trust that his mentor gives him calms the teenager down. He can do this.

“I got you,” Peter promises. He takes a deep breath, pinching the wound together with his left hand while the right one goes in. He’s slow, probably slower than a first-year medical student, but he’s too worried he’ll mess up to go any faster. Tony does his best to hold still, but Peter has to adapt to the quick rise and fall of Tony’s stomach. Peter’s struggling to keep his anxiety down, and he almost sobs with relief when he reaches the other end of the wound.

“Okay, okay. I’m almost done, Tony, I promise,” Peter says. He grabs the thread firmly and pulls, closing the wound up. He knots it and breathes deeply, letting all the tension finally leave his body. After a moment, he sees that the blood is still seeping through. Right. He needs to stop that.

“Lemme just grab fresh gloves,” Peter runs to the trash can and slips off his gloves in the same way he was taught to avoid chemicals in school. He yanks on a fresh pair, returning to Tony again. Maybe he needs to clean the wound once more. Instead of pouring it straight on, Peter now pours it on gauze to wipe and clean around the stab wound, carefully not to disturb the stitches. Then, he grabs some clean, dry gauze and pushes down. Tony moans.

“I know. Sorry,” Peter blushes. He barely knows what he’s doing, and he can only hope he’s done it right. He tapes a box around the gauze, but he’s not sure it’ll stay. Peter trots back to the cabinets, digging up some thick bandages. He lifts Tony off the bed slightly to slide it under, wrapping up his abdomen as securely as possible.

“Friday, Karen. Anything else I need to do?” Peter asks, staring at his mentor. Tony is pale, and his eyes are unfocused, looking in the general direction of the ceiling.

“The Boss has blood loss. I would recommend IV fluids if you can,” Friday responds. Peter nods, scanning the room for the IVs. He grabs whatever he needs and pulls it to the bedside.

“Hold still,” Peter says. He grabs Tony’s forearm firmly, sliding it into the vein. He hopes he got it right, and he has to stretch to grab the medical tape to secure it. Peter finally pulls away from the bed, inspecting his work. He thinks he did okay.

“Tony?” He calls shyly. The man groans in response, but it’s good enough for Peter. He sighs in relief and sits down next to Tony’s bed, putting his head on his arms on the bed rail. They’re quiet, the only sound being the steady beep of the pulse monitor Peter attached to Tony’s finger, and Peter has no clue how long it’s been when he sees magic light up the room. He jumps to his feet.

“Peter?” Doctor Strange calls, stepping through a portal. “I just got the message. Is he-?”

“He’s okay, I think,” Peter gestures to Tony, who’s blinking slowly at Strange. “I stitched him up, but you might want to check it because y’know- I’m not a uh… not a doctor.”

“You stitched him up?” Stephen asks, looking genuinely surprised. Peter nods sheepishly, watching anxiously as Doctor Strange starts to pull away the dressing to look at the wound.

“It looks okay..,” Stephen says, inspecting the threads. It’s not surgical precision, but it’s not going to hurt Tony either. Taking the stitches out and redoing them would cause more damage than it’s worth. “I’m impressed, kid.”

“Thanks,” Peter mumbles, staring at his feet. There’s another moment of silence.

“...is there a reason you’re just wearing boxers?” Stephen asks, and Peter jumps slightly, his face turning red.

“Oh! I- uh… needed to put on gloves, but my suit is one piece. So I just sorta… took it off. I-I forgot about it,” Peter stammers. “I didn’t want to leave him in case an.”

“Right..,” Strange nods. “Why don’t you go shower and put properly dressed? I’ll watch him.”

“Okay,” Peter squeaks, zipping out of the room. Strange smirks slightly. The kid’s adorable.

Peter takes as fast of a shower as he can manage, but he does pause for a moment, watching how much blood washes off his hands and arms and down the drain. He pushes it out of his brain. Tony’s safe now. He’s okay. That doesn’t lessen the anxiety. Peter grabs sweatpants and a t-shirt from his sort-of-guest-sort-of-permanent room, and speeds back to the med bay. Luckily, nothing has changed except that Strange redressed the wound. He pads over to Tony’s bedside, noting that the man is now asleep.

“I gave him some painkillers,” Strange explains, and Peter feels a bit of guilt go through him for not thinking about that. “Instructions for when and how much to take are on the side table. I have to clean up from this fight I just finished, but I’ll be back to check in later, okay? Keep me posted.”

“Yeah. I got it. Right,” Peter nods vigorously, and Stephen pats him on the shoulder.

“You did good, Peter,” He opens a new portal and leaves the two alone again.

“Mmm,” Tony groans, and Peter touches his arm lightly.

“Tony?” Peter whispers. The man forces his eyes open.

“C’mere.” Peter doesn’t waste any time in complying with the request, helping Tony scoot over and squeezing himself into the little space there is. He curls into the man, careful not to aggravate any injuries, and Tony slides his arm behind Peter’s neck and over his shoulder. Peter breathes deeply, drinking in the warmth of their cuddle. He knows that right now, the comfort is flowing both ways. Tony has something to keep him grounded, and the steady rise and fall of Tony’s chest (which Peter has an arm slung over) reminds the teenager that he’s still alive.

Doctor Strange returns a couple hours later to find both heroes sound asleep. He says nothing, just silently checks the vitals, write a note for Peter, and leaves again. He isn’t needed here. The kid’s got it covered.


	31. Chapter 31

Thor, Tony, Rocket, and Groot stand by the ramp, waiting anxiously for Nebula to finish landing the ship on Titan. They reversed the snap, but everyone rematerialized where they dematerialized, so the heroes promptly jumped into the Milano to go save their families. The stranded crew sees the Milano coming down, and they’re all sprinting for it. They arrive right as the Avengers are stepping onto the dirt.

Tony’s entire body jolts when his son barrels into him, clutching his surrogate father so tightly that Tony worries it’ll break his bones. He doesn’t care, returning as tight of a hug as he can manage. Rocket and Groot are historically less physically affectionate, so it’s actually an impressive feat when Rocket rubs his eyes and grabs Quill’s leg. Groot, in the meantime, greets Drax and Mantis, extending tendrils of branches to embrace them both.

Thor looks around at the reunions and frowns. He knows Loki won’t be here, but he came anyway. He claimed that he wanted to support Rocket, Groot, and Stark, but really, the man was just desperately grasping at straws. He hoped maybe he would find some of the lost Asgardians on the journey. He had no idea if Valkyrie was alive. However, he does recognize Strange, and the two men somewhat awkwardly shake hands, Strange uttering some words of respect, for he knew what would happen, and he knew Thor played a big role.

“Did we win?” Peter asks, nuzzling his head into Tony’s shoulder.

“We reversed the snap,” Tony confirms, flexing his hand that lodges the infinity stones. Currently, his nanotech is covering them, hiding the glow from the surrounding people. He pushes his anxiety down, hoping Peter doesn’t ask about the other aspect. The boy does though.

“Thanos?” Peter questions. Tony tenses.

“We’re working on it,” Nebula answers, coming down the ramp. “We just needed to prioritize picking you all up. We got here as fast as we could.”

“Oh. We’re in  _ that _ reality,” Strange mumbles, sagging. Spider-Man, Nebula, and Rocket only hear it due to their enhancements. Peter pulls away.

“What-” He stops short as a blinding light comes from behind the group, and Thor recognizes it as a portal. He’s here.

“STARK!” A voice roars, and the group jumps into defensive pictures as the purple alien comes into view. Tony quickly steps around his kid, shoving Spider-Man behind him protectively. Both of their masks come up. Iron Man keeps his eyes trained on Thanos, not daring to look away.

“You guys know the plan,” He reminds the group he came with. “Pair off and split up. Pete, you’re with me.” Everybody else grabs a partner. The team discussed this on the flight over. Nebula goes with Strange, Groot with Mantis, Rocket with Drax, and Quill with Thor. They don’t waste any time getting into position, surrounding Thanos in their stand. Thanos doesn’t seem to care, focusing solely on Tony Stark, and it doesn’t take being Mantis to feel the anger rolling off of the villain.

“Keep your distance. Web him up. Be on guard,” Tony orders, and Spider-Man backs away. He’s terrified. He doesn’t want to die again, but Spider-Man knows the only way to truly keep everyone safe is to fight. Bravery isn’t being fearless. It’s fighting despite the fear. Ben told him that once.

“Y’know, this morning on the ship, I was thinking. I could really go for some grapes. And look at this, now I’ve got a giant one,” Tony quips. The nanotech crawls back, revealing the six stones that the Iron Man suit holds. Mantis’ hand flies to her mouth in shock, and Spider-Man stares at him.

“You have a gauntlet?!” Spider-Man shouts.

“So does he,” Nebula points out.

“You have doomed this universe!” Thanos roars, raising his fist to the sky. Purple clouds form as he summons power, and the team prepares to dodge. Iron Man activates his space stone, and as the purple burst of energy comes for him, Tony opens a set of portals, redirecting the blow so it hits Thanos in the back. The villain flies forward.

With the first blow dealt, the team springs into action, hitting Thanos in as many ways as possible. It only works as long as the man is stunned. He’s so powerful, that they have seemingly no effect, and Thanos blasts the group away from him. Tony sends a wave of power at Thanos, but Thanos sidesteps, activating the reality stone to encase Iron Man in darkness. He can’t see. Tony steps back, activating his own reality stone in an attempt to undo it.

“How are there two gauntlets?!” Peter Quill asks.

“We time traveled and took the stones from the future,” Thor explains, summoning stormbreaker. He breaks into a run, charing at Thanos. When the god jumps into the air to cut Thanos’ head in half, he’s frozen in midair. Thanos flexes his hand, and Thor flies straight to him, as if some external force is pushing him. Thanos grabs him by the neck with his free hand, pressing the power stone against his temple. Thor groans, squirming as the stone tries to shatter his skull. It burns, making him feel as if his whole body is fire.

“I should’ve killed you when I had the chance,” Thanos muses, pushing harder. Drax and Rocket hit Thanos from the side in sync, knocking him over. Thor drops to the ground, gasping, and Quill swoops in, moving him away from the battle. Thor tries to get back up when Quill hides him, hands trying to grab onto the man’s arm, but he’s drained of all energy, and he’s brushed away with ease.

“No! Stay here!” Quill orders. He flies back out.

Tony recovers, and he morphs reality. The ground beneath Thanos turns to quicksand, trapping him there. Spider-Man swings in, landing a kick to Thanos’ head. He pushes off of the helmet, ensuring he lands far enough to avoid the quicksand. Strange summons his magical strings, and they wrap themselves around Thanos’ gauntlet, pulling on it. Thanos clenches his fist, sending energy back up the strings. Strange isn’t fast enough to let go, and he’s blasted back. The cape barely keeps him from breaking his neck, and his head smacks into metal debris. He’s out.

Drax runs at Thanos with his blades, knowing he’s strong enough to break the quicksand, but as he hits the quicksand, Thanos turns it to stone, trapping Drax’s legs. The stone wraps around Drax, pushing inwards on his torso. His bones fracture, and he lets out a choked scream. Thanos leaves the blue brute in agony, stepping out of the stone himself to get back on solid ground.

“You killed Gamora!” Quill screams, flying by and blasting bullets. Nebula shakes her head, running to meet Quill when he lands. Rocket takes off for another wave.

“He brought her back,” She explains. Quill’s head swings towards Thanos.

“What?” Quill asks. He watches as Peter shoots a taser web at Thanos, and it has minimal effect. He flies back towards Thanos. “Where’s Gamora?!”

Before he arrives at his target, Iron Man blasts Thanos, sending him flying. Quill follows, landing on Thanos’ chest. Spider-Man webs the alien to the ground, keeping him there. Groot helps, adding thick branches to secure him.

“You want Gamora? Here she is,” Thanos growls. He opens a portal beneath him, sinking through the ground and to the heroes’ other side. Another portal opens, and Gamora drops down. Quill feels his heart swell, and he runs towards her. 

“Quill, wait!” Nebula screams, but Quill ignores her, full out sprinting to her. A blade drives into his stomach. He gasps, and when their eyes meet, they can see the broken hearts in one another.

“Gamora-” Quill pitches forward, leaning on her. She doesn’t push him off, but she doesn’t remove the blade either.

“I’m sorry,” She whispers. Mantis rushes to them, and her hand grabs Gamora’s arm. She sobs at what she sees.

“She’s working with Thanos. He… He made her blame you,” Mantis chokes out. Quill stares at Gamora, who is now glowering at him.

“You promised,” Gamora speaks quietly. She shoves Quill off of her, attacking Mantis. The woman knows where to hit, and Mantis hits the ground within seconds. Quill lies on his back, trying to stay awake.

“What did he do to you?” Quill pants, clutching his stomach. Gamora kneels next to him, pressing the blade against his neck.

“He tortured me. Day after Day. Night after night. I have to do what he tells me to, or it’ll get worse,” Gamora explains. Quill winces.

“I’m so sorry. I- I tried-”

“It’s your fault. He taught me that,” Gamora keeps the same steady tone, and Quill realizes just how broken she is. She’s right. He should’ve killed her when Thanos first got her. He was too selfish.

“Kill me then.”

Meanwhile, Tony and Thanos continue to duke it out. They send blasts of power at one another, and Spider-Man, Nebula, Groot, and Rocket continue to attempt to distract Thanos. Groot and Rocket charge at Thanos. The purple alien pulls a wall of stone from the ground, warping it to trap Iron Man in a box. While the billionaire blasts his way out, Thanos deals with the pair coming for him. His hand glows orange, and suddenly, Rocket trips. There’s a root around his ankle.

“What?” Rocket gapes up at Groot, and he sees glazed eyes. No! Before Rocket can shoot himself free, the wood slithers around him. Groot lifts him up, absorbing Rocket into himself, still bound. Then, Groot grows roots into the ground, securing himself. Thanos releases the mind control with satisfaction. A smug grin comes to his face, only to be kicked off by Spider-Man.

Peter lands gracefully, shooting webs at his eyes again. Thanos is temporarily blinded, and as Tony gets free again, Nebula hits Thanos with a taser. He groans, falling to the ground, but he fights through it, swatting her legs out from under her. She rolls out of the way before Thanos can punch her.

Tony combines both of his hands into one, powering up one giant burst of power. Thanos sees this happening, and he stands his ground, charging up his own gauntlet. They both fire, and their streams meet in the middle, fighting one another. Some of the energy escapes outward, sending Peter and Nebula flying back. Nebula’s eyes widen as the electricity overrides her system’s power, and her mechanical components are malfunctioning. She squirms on the ground, trying to find the emergency switch, but the bonds in her mechanical limbs are weakening, and she can’t reach it.

“I got you,” Peter promises. He sees the switch and presses it quickly. She’ll need a few minutes to recuperate. Nebula nods, staring at the battle of forces between the two gauntlet wielders. Thanos and Tony are both forced backwards, but the epicenter is getting closer to the human.

“Your gauntlet is from the future. It’s been drained. It’s weaker!” Thanos yells, giving another push. Tony’s eyes widen, and his back smacks into metal debris a millisecond later. He collapses to the ground. Thanos walks towards him.

“No!” Peter shouts. Blinded by panic, he abandons Nebula, sprinting toward his mentor. He pushes off the ground, intended to hit Thanos with everything he’s got, but Thanos anticipates this. He catches Spider-Man by the throat, and the teenager gasps as his air supply is cut off. Thanos squeezes with bruising force, holding the boy up as if he weighs nothing.

“Stop!” Tony whispers, working to get his arms under him. Thanos glares down at him. Spider-Man wheezes, pulling at the fingers around his neck to no avail.

“I went through endless years of pain and suffering to complete my life’s goal, Stark. And you destroyed all of it. It’s time you felt the same,” Thanos declares. As Peter’s movements start to slow, Thanos drops him, and Tony winces at the thud of his body hitting the ground. Peter heaves in whatever oxygen he can. He’s 10 feet away- just barely too far to grab and protect. If Tony tries to reach Peter, Thanos will get there first.

“I lost my children to this cause. You will too. Not quickly, of course,” Thanos’ gauntlet lights up, and he activates all of Peter’s nerves. Peter’s mouth falls open as his entire body lights up with searing pain, and a blood-curdling scream tears out of the kid.

“PETER!” Tony cries. He forces himself to his hands and knees, watching in horror. He- he needs to stop this. But he’s too paralyzed by seeing Peter like this. Peter’s deactivated his mask in his panic, so Tony can see the way his face is scrunched up. There’s too much brain activity. He’s seizing, writhing around on the ground as he squeals in pain. It’s too much. All too much.

Gamora hears the screams and instinctively looks up. She sees Thanos torturing what looks to be just a kid. Like he’s done to her. She looks back at Quill, who’s gazing up at her. He grabs her hand without thinking, looking for comfort, and she softens. Thanos may have beaten her into submission, but she still has a heart. Gamora pulls the knife away from Quill’s neck and stands, gathering herself.

“Thanos, that’s enough,” She reasons, trying not to look at Peter. It’s hard to watch. Thanos speaks to her without turning- he’s too busy drinking up the horror on Tony’s face as his surrogate son slowly dies.

“He needs to know how it feels,” Thanos says calmly. Gamora takes a step closer, tightening her grip on her knife.

“Stop,” She demands. Thanos doesn’t respond, and Gamora realizes that the kid is no longer screaming anymore. His mouth just hangs open as he jerks uncontrollably on the ground. Gamora takes a deep breath. She’s going to regret this. She stabs Thanos in the arm. The world seems to stop for a moment. Thanos’s hand relaxes, Tony remains paralyzed, and Gamora is still holding onto the knife. Everyone, including Gamora, is surprised. The only movement is Spider-Man’s persistent twitching.

“You little-” Thanos rounds on Gamora, and she backpedals, ending up back by Quill. Thanos roars, blasts them both back, and the resulting yelp snaps Tony out of it. He shakes his head clear, looking up. A moon. There’s another moon. He’s far enough from Peter now. Time to call things even.

With a surge of adrenaline, Tony closes his fist, grabbing onto the moon. He focuses, clenching his eyes shut to focus the stream. Every bit of the debris goes at Thanos, much more controlled than when Thanos threw the other moon. Rage tends to be a pretty good motivator. The purple monster turns just in time to see it coming for him, before the entire thing comes crashing down. Tony’s more than careful to keep the debris away from any teammates, and after feels like forever, he stops.

Iron Man runs to the pile of shattered moon, lifting all of it with his power stone. Thanos is- Tony blinks- he’s pretty dead. Unless squashed bugs can regenerate, they’re good. Tony sucks his soul into the stone. He puts the tons of rocks back to be safe.  _ Peter _ .

“Peter!” Tony sprints back to his kid, dropping to his knees. Peter’s face is streaked with tears, and he’s sobbing and coughing as his body tries to calm down. At the hand on his shoulder, Peter flinches, trying to crawl backwards. He can’t tell what’s going.

“Pete! Whoa, whoa, whoa. It’s me,” Tony cups his face, forcing Peter to look at him. “It’s me, bud.” Peter breathes rapidly and heavily, his eyes trying to focus.

“To-” is all he manages to get out, but it’s enough for the billionaire.

“It’s me,” He assures, gathering the quivering kid into a hug. “You’re alright. I promise. You’re alright.”

Gamora crawls to Quill, putting pressure on his wounds. He’s not responding much, but she thinks he’ll be okay. Groot is able to break loose from the mind control, and he unwinds himself from Rocket. The other heroes all get back on their feet, staggering over to surround Tony, who’s still cradling his son. He’s aching, but he’s alive, and that’s what matters. They’re all alive. Thanos is dead, and for the first time in years, they all feel safe.

**Author's Note:**

> I tend to post on my tumblr (adorkablesuperhero) first, so follow me there if you'd like faster updates and more content, as well as more reader/writer interaction.


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